A Presidential Divorce
by ScandalMania
Summary: Inspired by Vermontgate, I really, REALLY want Olitz in the White House. So here's a version of that dream... Can the Fixer and the Leader of the Free World make it happen...?
1. After Vermont

"Ma'am you left your phone on the counter with your coffee."

Olivia glanced up, bewildered, her phone in her hand. Then paused, catching Tom's wink.

"Thanks," she murmured as he passed her the phone and the coffee-to-go she hadn't yet ordered.

"Just the way you like it," he whispered, his lips barely moving.

"Thank you." She smiled, watching as he left the cafe.

In less than a minute, the phone rang.

"You got me a new phone," she said softly, walking towards her car.

"I miss you."

A shiver of need ran through her. "It's barely been a day."

"I miss you every minute of every day."

"Fitz..."

"I want to see you."

"You did. For an hour... all night." She closed her eyes, reliving the beauty of his touch, his kisses, his love... in the house he'd built for her… for them… and their children. She fought back tears, glad of the privacy in her car.

"Livvie…" Fitz breathed her name in a husky undertone that caressed her skin. "I need more than that. Come over. We'll talk."

"You want me to work on your campaign?" she murmured thickly, trying to deflect.

There was a long pause, then he replied softly, "I want to hold you."

"Fitz..."

"I love you."

He waited. This time she forced the words out, the ones she always carried in her heart. "I love you too, Fitz."

He sighed. "Thank you," he breathed softly. "I know that wasn't easy."

She gave a small laugh. "I have to go."

"No, there's car waiting on the corner. It'll bring you to me."

"That's not a good idea. We can't do this now."

"We can. We can pretend it's about my campaign if you want."

"Fitz..."

"Liv, the car's waiting. And so am I."

"Lauren, is he..?"

"Go right in, Ms Pope. He's waiting for you. You won't be disturbed," she paused, giving a slight smile. "By anyone. President's orders."

Olivia felt her cheeks heat as she opened the door and walked in, to find Fitz already heading around his desk, towards her.

"Mr President," she said softly.

"Ms Pope."

He grinned, she smiled back.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Then she was in his arms, his mouth on hers; her hands in his thick, curly hair. It was later – much, much later – that she remembered the cameras.

"It's okay," he murmured, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "Tom is on archiving duty tonight."

She leaned her cheek into his palm with a soft smile, prompting a soft groan to escape him before he reached for her lips again.

"Fitz... we have to stop," she moaned, eyes closing in bliss as his mouth shifted to trail down her neck.

"No," he whispered back, pressing his lips against her sweet spot, the one he'd discovered, the spot that was wholly his.

She shivered again.

"I want you."

"You have me."

He raised his head to look at her.

"Not for a few stolen moments. I want you. With me. Always. I love you."

She couldn't say it back to him. Not here, not in this house - the White House no less - that he shared with his wife. So she smiled, reaching up to cup his face, her heart full.

His gaze was solemn as he stared back at her. "I love you, Livvie. I'll keep saying it until you believe me. Until you realise you're everything to me. I want us to be together."

"We will be. When the time is right. In Vermont..."

"I don't want to wait."

She stared at him, slowly dropped her hands. "What are you saying?"

"When can you move in?"

"Fitz!" She laughed.

"I'm serious."

Olivia stepped, away from him, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't have to move in to work for you."

He gave a crooked smile. "This isn't about you working for me."

"And Mellie is okay with this?" She began pacing. "The three of us living under one roof – you, your wife and your mistress?"

"Don't."

"Oh, that's right, only you get to call me that when you're angry. To Mellie, I'm just a whore!"

Fitz rocked back on his heels, adding quietly, "That's what I want to change."

"Which part?" Olivia asked sweetly, "The mistress or the whore?"

"The wife."

She stopped pacing to stare at him. "Fitz! You're running for re-election!"

"I know. I don't care. I'm getting that divorce."

"This would ruin you! You won't stand a chance! They'll crucify you, at the very least impeach you-!"

He reached her in a couple of steps to gather her in his arms, waiting until his quiet strength calmed her. "I want to run again, with you by my side. I don't want hide anymore."

"Fitz, you can't."

"We can. We're standing in a place of big ideas, Livvie. Great things can happen."

"A divorce won't be considered great, not by the people, not by your party. Fitz, do you want that to be your legacy?" She raised her head in despair.

"Livvie," he groaned, cupping her face. "I don't want to do this anymore. Not without you."

"With me, you won't be President. There's never been a divorce in the White House."

"Perhaps it's time for this President to show that he is just a man who wants to be with the woman he loves, and that's okay even in the White House." Fitz reached for her hand and led her to the couch, settling her next to him until she was snuggled up in his arms.

"Imagine," he murmured against her temple. "This could be us. After a meeting of the joint chiefs- just like this - me chilling on the couch, telling you all about it, getting your advice, while I give you a foot massage."

That made her smile but when Olivia drew her head back to look at him all she said was, "Fitz, this isn't a love story, it won't have a happy ending."

"Not if we let Cyrus or Mellie write it. But this is our story, Liv. Yours and mine - our love."

"Our painful devastating love…"

He gave her a quizzical look. "Is that what you think we have? Even after Vermont?"

"It hasn't always been like that. We've hurt each other."

"We've hurt each other when one of us is trying to push the other one away. It was painful when we stopped trusting each other; devastating when we let our secrets almost destroy us. But when we're together, what we have - is heaven. Pure heaven. Our little piece of heaven on earth."

"Oh Fitz," She closed her eyes, but the tears she'd been holding back ever since she'd heard his voice seeped through her lashes.

He kissed them away. "We can do this. Trust me. Trust us."

"I'm so afraid..."

"Afraid of what, my love?"

A sob escaped her, as she opened her eyes and locked gazes with him. "Afraid that I'll destroy your career and it would be for nothing, because you'll realise that it wasn't worth it."

She broke his heart, she could see it on his face. His loving, handsome, honest face. "Livvie, I knew you'd be worth it from the first moment I met you."

"You wanted to fire me."

"Yeah," Fitz grinned ruefully, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. "I was a fool."

"No, you were being protective of your marriage."

"My marriage, in which two people are legally contracted to live in bitter, lonely martyrdom, not even knowing it doesn't have to be that way, until the love of your life arrives to hold a mirror to your life, showing you everything that's been missing and everything that's possible."

"And now you want to thank me by destroying your career."

"Livvie, I. Love. You. You're the love of my life. I want to share a life with you. I want what we shared in Vermont here in the White House with you."

"Fitz, this isn't France."

"We're close enough to Montreal to pretend."

She tried for exasperation, but a giggle escaped.

"I really hate you."

"You love me."

"No, I really, really hate you right now, Fitzgerald Thomas Grant,"

"The third."

"The third." She scrunched her nose at him, making him chuckle as he added,

"Why, Ms Olivia Carolyn Pope?"

She kissed him.

"You can kiss me, but I still want to know," he murmured, slipping his tongue into her mouth for a taste, a taste that set the curling warmth in her belly ablaze.

"Tell me, Livvie."

"You're making me believe...in a happily ever after... for us."

He grinned at her, that same cheeky 'let's be inappropriate' smile he'd given her all those years ago in the shadows of a campaign bus. Only they weren't in the shadows. They were sitting on a Presidential couch in the Oval office, under the scrutiny of ever present cameras, contemplating political disaster.

"Livvie, stop," he breathed against her lips. "I can see that brilliant mind of yours come up with all the ways this will not work - but you're the fixer and I'm the President. We can do this. Let's make this happen. We've earned it. We've earned the right to be happy."


	2. Groundhog Day

**Disclaimer: Forgot to add this last time - Shondaland/ABC own these characters. I'm happy to lovingly borrow them (Olivia and Fitz in particular) for a little while.**

BTW, I'm having selective amnesia about certain themes : the premise of 3.07; B613; Operation Remington; Joke... but I love Joe Morton, so Rowan is in and Maya... hmm...

* * *

"Sir, was that... Olivia... I saw leaving just now?" Cyrus entered just minutes after she'd left.

"Yes," Fitz confirmed softly, a slow smile spreading over his mouth.

Cyrus responded with a beetling scowl. "You might want to take care of that- that-," he waved his hand at Fitz's face, "-lipstick!"

Fitz rubbed a thumb over his mouth, then smiled again at seeing the red stain on his skin.

"So I gather it's...good news?"

"Very good news, Cy."

"She's coming to work on the campaign."

"In a manner of speaking."

"What manner would that be, sir?"

"I'm getting a divorce."

Cyrus eyed Fitz as if he'd just asked about the weather, and was told a meteor was heading his way for a direct hit. He took a deep breath, then swung on his heel and headed for the door, yelling out to Lauren, "Who am I?"

Lauren glanced around him at Fitz, who shrugged.

"Uhm, you're Cyrus Beene, the White House chief of staff."

"Thank you, Lauren." Cyrus smiled, and closed the door. That fake - I'm walking on a bunion - smile pasted on his face, which Fitz blithely ignored.

"So now that we've cleared up your little identity crisis, Cy, what's our next order of business?'

"Do you know why I had that little identity crisis? No? I just wanted to be sure that I am Cyrus Rutherford Beene, your chief of staff and not the ever-loving Bill Murray reliving a nightmare in Groundhog Day. Do you remember that movie, sir, about a little furry ferret."

"Groundhog."

"Yes, that varmint, who forces a man to live the same day over and over and over again."

"Your point being?" Fitz raised a brow.

"My point-!" Cyrus sat on the couch opposite. "My point being, haven't we gone over this. We did a poll, several in fact, to find out what we already know – that the American public hates the idea of you, Mellie and a divorce."

"There was Teddy in the equation then."

"Oh you mean he isn't now? Has he gone to join Jerry and Karen in Neverland?"

"Teddy is too young to know what's going on, but he deserves to have a mother who can carry him for more than a photo op, without needing a sanitiser."

"And you've spoken about your plans to the said 'santising' mother?"

"Not yet."

Cyrus stared. "You haven't..." He gave an expected chortle of mirth, slapping his knee. "Oh I can't wait to witness that conversation! You might want to have your little chat on the North Lawn - hardly any breakables there. Nothing of national significance. And you can always throw her in the pool to cool off when she gets too heated in her arguments."

Fitz allowed himself the luxury of imagining Mellie tossed into the pool, and having her sputtering up water along with the fountain. Then he shook his head, "I'll talk to her tonight, after the staff have taken the cutlery away from the Family Dining Room."

"Okay, enough of this Saturday Night Live skit, you cannot get a divorce. It's political Armageddon. The concept of a presidential divorce won't work in the good ole U.S. of A."

"Nothing is truly impossible."

"Yes, it is! Or I would be President!"

Fitz leaned forward, feeling a wave of sympathy. "Cy, maybe that needs to be your big idea, but for now, while I hold this office, my big idea is to introduce people to the concept that divorce is a right that even a President should have."

"The American people aren't ready."

"Cyrus, I'm the leader of the free world, and I've realised the person who really needs to be free is me."

After Cyrus had left, shaking his head and muttering about having heart palpitations, Fitz took out his 'Liv' phone.

He smiled when she answered on the first ring. "Miss me?"

"Don't you have work? You know, 'leader of the free world' kind of stuff to do?"

"I do, that's why I'm talking to you."

She laughed, that raunchy, full-throated laugh that made him shift in his chair.

"I told Cyrus about the divorce."

"Did he have another heart attack?"

"No, but I think he's gone to double his medication."

"Oh," she giggled, "I shouldn't. My bad."

"I love this," he murmured.

"What?"

"Hearing you laugh. Do it again."

"Fitz! I can't laugh on command!" she said, giggling nonetheless.

"What else won't you do on command?" he asked seductively, drawling out the question in a husky undertone.

"Fitz, stop it! I'm laughing so hard, I'm distracting other drivers."

"Okay, I'll be serious." He paused, then added, "Next time...wear a skirt, and no undies..."

"Goodbye!"

"No."

"Yes! I'm being a responsible driver."

"You're a very responsible driver. That's why I let you drive me crazy all the time."

"Okay that's it, I'm really going now!" She laughed.

He waited, smiling.

"Fitz..."

"I love you."

There was a small pause, then she said softly, all traces of laughter gone from her voice. "I love you too."

"Honey, you've hardly touched anything on your plate. Are you feeling okay?"

Fitz gave a pained smile at Mellie's saccharine sweetness. He was waiting for her to finish the precise little squares of sirloin steak, but she was taking her time, chattering about the symposium of American Poets she'd hosted that afternoon.

"It was one huge yawn. I mean really do these people know the difference between Haiku and Haagen-Dazs. Oh and you wouldn't believe there was a 'list', I wouldn't call it a poem of every blooming-heck ice cream flavour ever invented. I mean really. I could have screamed and not for ice cream..."

Fitz needed a drink. No, he needed Olivia. He glanced at Mellie's steak knife, and decided to risk his neck before his brain atrophied in boredom.

"I want a divorce."

Mellie's mouth fell open, with her fork suspended in mid-air.

"What?"

"I want a divorce."

Mellie's jaw clicked shut and she placed her fork, carrying the skewered meat, neatly on her plate. Then she lifted her napkin to dab her mouth, before turning to Fitz.

"Is this your whore's idea?"

"Don't." The quiet word betrayed none of the sharp, blazing rage he felt at hearing the slur.

"I will call her whatever I like! You're my husband! 'To have and to hold, for better or worse, for richer, for poorer in sickness and in health until death do us part'! Did you forget that?! Did she?! One night with you and she thinks she can just waltz in here and take my place. Well that little slut-!"

"Enough!" Fitz roared. "I won't hear you use one more disgusting epithet against Liv. There's only one person I know who'd sell their soul for power, after my own father, and that person is you!"

"I wasn't publicly shamed for cheating in my marriage!"

"You have Olivia to thank for that. No, wait, I don't recall any thanks. What I do recall is that you wanted Liv to keep seeing me, to 'keep me in line'. I'd call you a pimp but I don't want to get into that habit in front of the kids. And Liv, she is the love of my life."

Mellie's hand curled around the steak knife handle.

"Want to stick that in me, Mellie? Might sully your image as the wronged wife."

Mellie pushed the knife away and sprang to her feet. "I did all this for you! I made you!"

"No, you did all for you. You made me an anchor to your ambitions. You made me feel miserable and alone in this so-called marriage. Our vows were just lies, I felt it then and I know it now. It would have been more honest to say that you'd keep me hog-tied by your side, for all the power and prestige I could bring. You wanted all this, more than I did. More than you ever wanted to be a wife or mother, those are the necessary evils you had to endure for what you wanted. You did all this for you, Mellie, and it's time you faced that truth."

"Oh, what a nice speech. Did your ex-Communications Director write that for you? She always could come up with glib words to dress a turkey in a Tux!"

"And there you have it, ladies and gentleman, my loving, supportive wife."

"Oh, shut it, Fitzgerald! You divorce me and you can say goodbye to being President. That's the packaged deal you're stuck with!"

With that Mellie tossed her hair, and strode out, getting in the last word that night.

* * *

**Wow, thank you :) . I have readers – yeah ! Love your comments. Keep them coming - let me know the good, bad and ugly (yes, I speak in Hollywood cliches!). This is a work in progress – mainly, my progress as a writer, so really appreciate the feedback.  
**


	3. Sputternik

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC own these characters. I'm happy to lovingly borrow them (Olivia and Fitz in particular) for a little while.**

* * *

"Good morning."

"Good morning," Olivia snuggled under the blankets, feeling warmth curl through her belly. "I missed talking to you last night."

"I was on the phone with the Prime Minister of Turkey. I thought you'd be asleep."

The warmth subsided. "Fitz?"

"Mmhm?"

Oliva pushed back the covers and sat up. "What's wrong?"

"I told Mellie about the divorce. Last night. At dinner."

"Are you okay?"

This time there was a smile in his voice, when he answered. "I'm okay, Livvie. I'm relieved." He paused , taking a deep breath. "I wish I'd done it sooner, before I met you. If I'd done that, got her out of my life, then we could have been married. And it would have been you and me and all our kids here in the White House, working for the greater good. Just imagine that, Liv. Just think of everything we could have achieved?"

Olivia closed her eyes for a moment, but eventually forced herself to be practical. "Fitz, you would never have been nominated by the Republicans as a divorced president."

"Reagan was divorced."

"In 1949. He'd been happily married to Nancy for nearly thirty years by the time he became

president. Most voters didn't even remember his first marriage. They just knew he was a famous movie star- the John Wayne of politics."

"So you think I should have divorced Mellie and become a movie star?"

"Fitz," she giggled. "Have you had coffee?"

"Liv, I've had coffee and a bagel with blueberry jam."

"Yummy."

"Yes, yummy." He said, sounding distracted.

"Fitz..." she sighed; then scrunched her nose, feeling cheeky. "In a way, I'm glad that Mellie kept you shackled."

There was a pause, before he muttered, "Did you have a nightmare about me? Is this payback?"

Olivia smiled. "I mean, if you had been single and on the loose, someone else could have snapped you up; someone who would have made you happier than Mellie."

He snuffled a laugh, sounding so sexy in her ear. "Yeah, you."

"Someone other than me. Someone who realises that you are...one...very...sexy...man."

"I'm sending the car over. Don't bother getting dressed."

"Fitz!" She collapsed against the pillows, laughing.

"So are you coming over?"

She smiled, cradling the phone against her cheek. "I have work. A very, special client."

"Well, I have the daily briefing in an hour and I won't be able to stand."

She laughed softly, "May I suggest a very long…very cold shower."

"Livvie, you are a very cruel woman."

"But you love me."

"I love you." His voice turned soft and husky.

"Mr...Sexy...President..."

He responded to that in a low tone, sending a shiver across her skin. "Just so you know, I'm drafting a presidential decree for the 'Liv in skirts and definitely no undies' rule."

"Fitz!"

"Yeah, you should feel these presidential balls now, baby."

Olivia buried her face in a pillow, laughing.

* * *

Later that morning at Olivia Pope and Associates, their chief-in-charge breezed in with her usual coffee and an unusually radiant smile.

Abby walked up to Olivia and sniffed suspiciously. "Did you have sex?"

"Abby, I'm shocked. As if I would do such a thing," Olivia chuckled, removing her coat.

"So if it's not sex, what happened?"

They all stood around the table in a semi-circle, arms crossed, watching her.

"We have a new client." Olivia took a publicity photograph of President Fitzgerald Grant III from her bag, and put on the Gladiator wall.

"The President? What's he done now?" Quinn asked.

"He wants to get a divorce and run for re-election."

"He's moving on up and out to Europe," Harrison sang, dancing a few steps.

"He's getting a divorce? While in office?" Quinn gaped. "Does this mean Janine was outed for nothing?"

"Nope, that was for a cool two mil, last I heard."

"Wait... if the President is getting a divorce, does that mean...?" Huck began, and they all turned to look at Olivia.

"What?"

"Ooh, I'm so happy for you," Quinn grinned, rounding the table to give Olivia a hug.

Abbie rolled her eyes and sat down. "Are we forgetting something? There's never been a presidential divorce. Not a current President divorcing his current wife_ in_ the White House."

"And Fitz wants to run for a second term while doing all that? Man, I'll have what he's having," Harrison muttered.

"You can't," Huck glared. "He's having Liv."

Quinn giggled, and Olivia sighed, "Okay, that's enough messing around, people. We need to get to work. I want to know how we can make this happen."

"I was serious about Europe. We've had French, Italian and Russian leaders divorce their wives while in office." Harrison smoothed his silk tie and sat down. "Man, this would be so much easier if we could just ship this problem across the Atlantic."

"Is Russia part of Europe?" Quinn asked.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Lindsay."

Quinn glared at Abby, but didn't find an answer before Huck ventured, "I could take care of Mellie."

"Huck!" They chorused.

All except for Abby. "It's such a neat way to get rid of an obvious problem."

"No!" Olivia scolded. "That is never going to be an option."

"Neither is divorce for a president," Huck said solemnly.

"The Russian President announced his divorce recently. It's fresh in people's minds. We could work with that, right?" Quinn sounded optimistic.

"Former KGB-officer turned President, yeah, he must have enough dirt on everybody to make anything possible," Harrison added. "What kind of dirt does Fitz have on the power-suits in his party?"

"Oh wait, a Russian president gets a divorce, so we must get one too. What is this – the Sixties?" Abby rolled her eyes again.

"The Sixties?" Quinn asked, confused.

Abby put a hand on a hip and recited slowly, "The Soviets launched a satellite into space in 1957. The satellite was called _Sputnik_. They followed that up, by sending the first man into space. That was in 1961. Do you see what I'm getting at, Lindsay?"

"No, I need pictures and coloured pencils."

Olivia held up a hand. "After Russia's manned space flight, JFK announced his plans to send a man to the moon in 1962."

"And the race was on," Huck broke in, shifting his gaze between the two women.

"Bigger and better. That's the vision," Harrison adjusted his collar.

"A vision of a 'bigger and better' divorce?" Quinn asked sceptically.

Olivia straightened from her perch on the edge of the table. "Our problem is that a President from the 'Family Values' party can't simply tear down its most sacred institution."

"We could start working on Defiance II," Quinn suggested.

Olivia turned and gave a look, making Quinn subside in her chair. "It was just a thought. But you're right – what am I thinking."

"Did your boyfriend show you how to rig an election, Lindsay?"

"No, Abigail, but I'm sure Huck could do it. And then David can run another dud trial to ruin his non-existent career!"

"We are not rigging another election. We need a better plan." Olivia walked over to the wall to collect the photograph.

"So we're back to taking care of Mellie?"

There was another chorus of "No, Huck!" This time even Abby joined in.

"Okay, we're done with this for today." Olivia put the picture of Fitz in her bag, before reaching for her coat.

"Where are you going? We have two separate clients arriving in ten minutes," Harrison frowned.

"I know, which is why I've decided that you and Abby should take the Henderson case; the wife is about to be fired from her syndicated cooking show after she was filmed racially abusing a customer. Quinn, Huck – you need to handle the guys from SecureNetWrk– an employee has disappeared with the client password master file. They want him and it found."

"And where are you going?" Abby asked.

"I'm going to buy a skirt."

* * *

**Thank you so much for your feedback :) I've added the transition lines – I hate being disoriented in the middle of a story too! About the dialogue – I re-watch episodes to 'hear' them speak in my mind as I write (as much as possible). And for the 'heaven' reference – I stole that from Tony Goldwyn – find the quote here in relation to 'Olivia' : /post/65701051179/scandal-postmortem-with-tony-goldwyn-operation. (that man… *sobs* ) **


	4. Needing Therapy

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC own these characters. I'm happy to lovingly borrow them (Olivia and Fitz in particular) for a little while.**

* * *

"We should see a therapist."

"Why?"

He lifted Teddy out of Mellie's arms, carrying his son into the Oval Office for their scheduled 'play time'.

"Fitz, don't you remember saying something about a divorce? Or were you on an orgasmic high at the time?"

"Orgasmic high or not, I meant what I said about the divorce," Fitz said evenly, smiling when Teddy gurgled and pulled at his tie.

Giving him a saccharine smile, Mellie swept past Fitz and sat on the couch, brushing her skirt into place. "Well, that's why I think we should see a marriage counsellor, it's part of the process of dealing with a relationship breakdown."

A frown knitted his brow. "Don't you have a poetry recital to attend or a museum exhibit to open?"

"No," Mellie patted the space next to her. "I cleared my schedule so we could talk."

Fitz placed Teddy over the Presidential Seal, then joined him on the royal blue rug.

Mellie shook her head. "See, this is why we need to see a therapist. We need to talk about how we can overcome the wilful stubbornness you get, when you're hell-bent on doing things your own way."

"As opposed to doing things your way," Fitz muttered, then paused when Teddy stopped playing with his yellow truck to stare at him. Pushing the anger back, he shook a chew toy at Teddy, adding pleasantly, "Can we talk about this some other time - we're scaring our son."

"Oh, he'll get over it." Mellie waved a dismissive hand. "I couldn't remember a thing before I was five years old. Teddy will be fine. He's too young to absorb facial cues or vocal tones."

"In your expert opinion."

"In my opinion as his mother. A mother knows these things. Instinctively."

Fitz levelled a glance at Mellie who stared back with a perfected lack of guile.

"What's all this about, Mellie?"

"Whatever do you mean, Fitzgerald?"

"I mean what are you up to?"

Mellie gave a bewildered frown, which she clearly believed was cute. "I've told you what I'm up to - I want us to see a marriage counsellor. I'm not sure how I can be any clearer than that."

"What would be the point of seeing a counsellor? I know _why_ I want to end this marriage - I'm in love with Olivia and I want to be with her. A counselling session won't change that fact or my mind about ending this farce of a marriage."

Mellie's teeth clenched into a smile. "Fitz, you're ending more than our marriage. Let me remind you that you will be ending your political career as well as your responsibilities as a husband and father."

"After the divorce, I'll stop being your husband, Mellie, but I won't stop being a dad to the kids."

"I'm sure you believe that, but you're obviously not in the right frame of mind to see the consequences of your actions. Not when you're about to make the biggest mistake in your political career."

Fitz took a deep breath and counted to ten. He was about to try for twenty when he saw that Teddy was puckering up to cry. Cursing inwardly, he sat up, lifting Teddy into his arms. "Fine. I'll ask the White House doctor to give a referral."

"Oh don't trouble yourself with all that." Mellie got to her feet quickly. "I've already found the perfect candidate. We are meeting her this afternoon."

Fitz stared, unsure whether to laugh or yell, just as Mellie reached down and plucked Teddy out of his arms.

"Teddy, say bye-bye to daddy."

"I have an hour scheduled with Teddy."

"Not today. I'm having lunch with a group of NRA Women and they just adore Teddy. He can have his play time with them, before Nurse takes him away for a nap. Now, don't forget, four this afternoon in the Red Room." She trotted off, with Fitz staring after Teddy's sad, confused face looking back at him, over Mellie's shoulder.

* * *

Seconds later, the Oval Office door opened, then closed and slow, measured footsteps approached.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Tom."

"Is everything all right?"

"Everything is fine."

There was a small silence, followed by a heavy sigh. "Thanks for confirming that, Sir. I'll just leave you to do... whatever it is you're doing."

"Thank you, Tom."

"You're welcome, sir."

Ten minutes later, the door opened again and this time the footsteps were neither measured nor slow.

"Mr President."

"Cyrus."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I don't know, just a thought I had seeing the President of this great nation of ours, _lying down on the floor, _in the middle of the Oval Office."

"I'm resting."

"I see… Of course, there are two couches here that are perfectly _functional_ for resting, but you obviously found the rug far more comfortable." He paused, then asked with concern replacing the sarcasm, "Have you put your back out?"

"No. My back is fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

"Right, that explains it." The sarcasm returned. "Are you perhaps doing a thread count of the rug? Or checking for defects in the design of the Presidential Seal?"

"No, I'm just lying here with my eyes closed, contemplating my life."

He felt Cyrus shift, and his voice was closer when he muttered, "Sir, we have a very busy schedule today - envoys to meet; hearings to attend; treaties to negotiate - you don't have time to contemplate your life or anyone else's."

"I have almost an hour – to just lie here, alone, with my thoughts. It's my scheduled Teddy time."

There was a long silence, then Fitz heard Cyrus struggle to his feet, grumbling under his breath. His footsteps faded away, followed by a sharp opening and closing of the door. A minute later, the door opened again and Cyrus yelled, "I deserve a raise!"

"Send me a proposal and I'll consider it!"

This time the door slammed shut. Fitz sighed, welcoming the quiet that settled in the room and hoped he wouldn't be disturbed again.

He'd begun to doze when the Oval Office door opened for a third time, and he heard the click of heels approaching. The rhythm of those heels made his heart lift, and a smile spread over his lips even before her scent reached him.

Eyes still closed, he raised his arm and sighed happily when soft fingers curled around his hand, but when he tugged, she resisted.

"Livvie, Tom is on duty."

A laugh escaped her. "Does that man never sleep?"

"I had him cloned."

This time when he tugged, she came unresistingly to lie beside him, snuggling into him, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder.

"Bad day?" she asked, sliding an arm across his chest.

"The usual."

"What are you doing on the floor?"

"I'm having a play date with Teddy."

"He's not here."

"I know. He's with Mellie, and a bunch of women from the National Rifle Association. They get to play with him. I don't."

Her soft sigh feathered his neck as her hand stroked along his shirt sleeve. He found the caress deeply soothing.

"She wants us to see a marriage counsellor."

"You should go."

Fitz cracked open an eye and caught the soft, sweet expression on her face.

"I'm serious," Olivia smiled, lifting a hand to cup his face. "You should go. Use it as an opportunity to make your peace with her."

"Mellie is not a peace-maker."

"Then use it to call a truce. For Teddy's sake, and for Jerry and Karen."

He stared at her solemnly, she stared back. Then he leaned in for a soft kiss, tracing the lush curves of her lips with his mouth.

"I'm glad they sent for you," he whispered.

She shifted back to meet his eyes. "They didn't send for me. I was already on my way here when Cyrus called to say that you had lost your mind. Lauren said you were resting, but that she didn't think you'd mind if I disturbed you. Do you?"

"Do I what?" he asked, watching her lips.

She gave a soft chuckle, pressing her lips to his skin, lightly feathering kisses along his jaw.

"Are you trying to make me feel better? Because it's working."

Olivia paused, with a smile against his chin, before gently turning his face for their lips to meet. With an inarticulate murmur, he opened his mouth, inviting her in, wanting to taste her with an achingly familiar need.

She took charge, shifting to lie on top as he wrapped his arms around her.

Hearing her whimper softly when he sucked on her lips, he pulled her closer running his hands over her back and down her sides. His intention was not to soothe but to arouse, as he imprinted his touch against the yielding softness of her breasts, while she cupped his face with both hands and deepened the kiss.

He didn't know how long they remained lost to the world, or where that scorching kiss would have ended had his restless hands not slid over the curve of her hips. That's when he realised, despite the raging desire fogging his brain, that something was different in the way Olivia was dressed.

When she lifted her head, breathless and flushed, to look down at him, he growled, "You're wearing a skirt."

She chuckled, sinking into another kiss. This time, his response was lustful and urgent as he tried to draw her skirt up.

"Mm," Olivia mumbled in protest trying to shift out of reach even as their lips clung together.

"Fitz!" She broke free. "I don't want to flash the cameras! I've given the Secret Service an eyeful already!"

She tried to roll away but he didn't let her escape; catching her close as he sat up, hauling her into his lap.

"Fitz..." She evaded his mouth. "Stop."

"Livvie, you're wearing a skirt."

She paused, then her expression melted into such sweetness his heart warmed.

"Yes, I'm wearing a skirt." She stroked gentle fingers through his hair. "That's why I was on my way here... to show you my skirt... to see if you approve."

"I approve," he mumbled against her neck, hugging her tightly. "How do we take it off?"

She giggled. "Naughty."

"Mmm," he agreed, lifting his face for another kiss as his slid his hands up her thighs, pushing up her skirt as he went.

She giggled, stopping him. "Fitz! Don't! We can't do this!"

"We can."

"I have to go!"

"No."

"Yes. I have to go," she said firmly, her hands lifting to cup his face. "And you have to behave, Mr President."

"You called me sexy this morning." He leaned in to brush noses with her.

"You are sexy. Very...very...sexy but we can't do this. Not here. Not now," she whispered huskily.

"Then when?" he whispered back, not willing to let her go.

"Can you arrange to see me tonight?"

"Yes," he said promptly, then groaned. "There's a state dinner."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." He promised, feeling a flicker of pain at forcing her to wait.

"Will you wear this skirt?"

"I'll wear this skirt."

Grinning, he helped her up, then let her haul him to his feet after her, but when she stepped back, he held on to her hands. "Stay a minute."

A sweetness settled on her face as she let him draw her gently back into this arms.

Fitz closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the world fall away in that moment. There was only the two of them; holding each other, wrapped in tenderness, listening to each other breathe. Until the phone rang on the Resolute Desk.

He let her go with a reluctance that prompted her to stand on tiptoe and kiss him again.

"Tomorrow," he whispered.

"Tomorrow." She slid her hand down his chest, before turning away, heading towards the door.

Just before she reached for the door handle, she paused to glance back over her shoulder.

Catching him staring, she smiled, then lifted a hand to her lips and blew him a kiss. He caught her kiss in the palm of his hand and placed it over his heart.

Then the door closed softly behind her.

* * *

**Thank you soooo much for your comments – and for reading :) !– I really appreciate the story ideas , they're great and I really hope I can do them justice. I have to admit that while I have always enjoyed the drama of politics, I've never bothered with the mechanics of it – now, Google, Wikipedia and the White House website are my friends (!) Saying all that, I'll apologise now for any factual errors that may appear in this story…**


	5. Reality Check

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC own these characters. I'm happy to lovingly borrow them (Olivia and Fitz in particular) for a little while.**

* * *

"Fitz! There you are! I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about us." Mellie brushed at his jacket and went to straighten his tie, but he managed to side-step her.

Unfazed, Mellie linked an arm through his and brought him forward to meet the slight, dark-haired woman watching them intently.

"Fitz, this is Dr Carlita Mendoza. I was just telling her about the history of this room, to fill time while we waited for you. Why are you late?" Mellie turned to him with a bright smile.

Shooting a wry glance at their audience, Fitz murmured, "My video-conference with the Peace Corps volunteers in Mozambique ran late – technical difficulties." Shaking Mellie free, he reached out a hand to Dr Mendoza. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Dr Mendoza, I hope I haven't inconvenienced you too much."

Dr Mendoza's face relaxed into a smile, as she shook his hand. "Mr President, it is an honour and a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh that's nice – the two of you getting along – but we should get started, we've wasted enough time already." Mellie steered Fitz towards the Empire-style sofa, where she seated herself next to him with a proprietary hand on his knee. "Fitz, Dr Mendoza is going to help us patch things up - as a service to the public."

Fitz sighed, but before he could answer, Dr Mendoza broke in gently, "Mrs Grant, I must apologise, that is not what I'm going to do."

"It's not?" Mellie's eyes widened.

"No. I did give details about the documentary theme when I applied for funding from the President's Arts Foundation. I also explained my plans when I spoke to the White House aide who contacted me on your behalf."

Fitz shifted out of Mellie's grasp and sat forward. "Wait, back up…did you say 'documentary'?"

"Yes, Mr President, I call it a documentary, but it is actually intended to be a series of interviews with high profile public figures and their wives; about the marital issues they experience while in public office."

"Fitz, I told Dr Mendoza that you could put in a good word and get some of our friends involved - the Blairs, the Clintons, the Sarkozys. I mean it's all for a good cause!"

He flexed his jaw and shifted away from Mellie, as far as the width of the sofa would allow. "So you're not really a marriage counsellor?"

"I'm a qualified Marriage, Family and Child therapist. I write a marital advice column for several national publications, and I host a nightly radio show giving on air advice to listeners who call me."

"She's even written a best-selling book and won a couple of awards. I did my research on her," Mellie smiled winningly at the doctor.

"Mrs Grant, please there is something I must make clear – the purpose of this documentary is not to mend what is already broken. It is to show that marriage can sometimes be a prison that is worse than an actual jail. Sometimes we create this prison through fear and that is the hardest one to escape.

"Other times, it is because you live in a palace or mansion which comes with guards, and the man you call your husband has access to an army. In such cases, facing the disapproval of church and family looks less frightening than facing the backlash from an entire nation of voters. So you see, I want to focus on the darker side of being married while in the public eye."

Her sympathetic gaze rested on Fitz. "President Grant, I can see that this is not what you were expecting. In fact I was surprised to learn that you and your wife wanted to be part of this. In this situation, I feel it is best that I stop wasting both you and Mrs Grant's time." Dr Mendoza reached for her bag.

"No, wait. Fitz! Please, this is important. Didn't you hear what she said - it would be in the public's interest to see the trials and tribulations of being married to the man who has keys to the Capitol."

"Mellie..."

"Fitz, please, you couldn't possibly understand what it's like for me – trapped here in this big old mausoleum of tradition, being the faithful, obedient, long-suffering wife. I mean what else can I do, when that is all that's expected of me - to cope and manage on my own while waiting for the crumbs of your attention; knowing that I'll never have all of you; knowing that…" Mellie paused with a break in her voice and took a moment to compose herself. "…Knowing that I will always have to share you with your mistress."

"Mellie, that's enough."

"No, you can't hush me, Fitz! Not anymore. I have suffered in silence for far too long. Dr Mendoza needs to hear this. The world needs to hear this! My husband is having an affair. He has a mistress and her name is Olivia Pope."

"Olivia!"

At Dr Mendoza's interjection, Mellie paused and Fitz turned his furious gaze from his wife to the doctor. "You know Olivia?"

"Yes... I know Olivia." The doctor paused slightly, then continued, "I don't talk about this, but it is not a secret. My real name is Carlita and Mendoza is my maiden name. Before this I was known by another name - Carolina Florez.

"I was the wife of General Benicio Florez. He was...and is... a very controlling man. He made me stop working when I married him and changed my name to Carolina – to make me appear more sophisticated…" She took a deep breath. "Olivia helped me when I thought I had no one. I needed to be strong for my children and she was my strength. She helped me escape with my children – all my children. I can never thank her enough." She turned away abruptly, swiping a hand across her cheek as she reached for her coat.

By the time she turned to face Fitz, Dr Mendoza was back in control and even managed a smile as she held out her hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr President. I hope you will find the path to your happiness. Mrs Grant, I can see that I am no help to you. I would be happy to give you the name of one of my colleagues - one who can be trusted to help you, discreetly and professionally."

Mellie's petulant gaze went from Dr Mendoza's face to her outstretched hand; then ignoring it completely, she stood and swept out of the room with her head held high.

"I'm sorry, Mr President, I have upset your wife."

"Dr Mendoza, please have a seat."

The doctor sat down, meeting his gaze steadily. Fitz smiled, hoping to put her at ease.

"There's nothing you need to apologise for. You have done nothing wrong. Now tell me about your children. What are their names...?"

* * *

Some time later, Fitz walked into the Master bedroom to find Mellie examining a couple of evening gowns with the help of two assistants.

"Fitz! I'm just trying to decide what to wear for the State Dinner tonight. What do you think? The red or the blue?"

"Can you excuse us, please," Fitz addressed Mellie's assistants. "I need to speak to my wife."

"_Your wife_! That has such a nice solid ring to it." Mellie smiled.

Fitz levelled his gaze at her. "What you did was rude."

"Fitz, I'm confused – what are you talking about?"

"You invited Dr Mendoza here as your guest, then you walk out on her because you didn't like what she had to say."

"I had to walk out of there. She was that General's wife. Didn't you have him declared an _Enemy of the State_? By walking out, I was doing my civic duty and showing my allegiance to you. Can't say the same for your precious _Miz Pope_!"

"Mellie, you didn't know about the General before you brought Dr Mendoza here. You know there are protocols for everyone who comes to the White House. There are clearances to get and people to be notified. You did none of that."

"Oh well, I'll know for next time." She turned to pick up the red dress, which had been placed on the bed. Holding it against her, Mellie faced him again. "I like this one. It's elegant, yet stunning - just the tone I want to set this evening."

"You're not going."

"What?"

"You're not going to the State Dinner."

"Don't be silly! Of course I'm going! I'm your wife!"

"I will give your apologies – say that you're not feeling well."

"There is nothing wrong with me!"

"What other explanation to do you have for trying to turn our marriage into Reality TV?! This is the White House, Mellie, not some suburban McMansion! I am a head of state; I represent our country on the world stage! My job here is to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States! It's not to take part in some freak show that would open this entire establishment to ridicule, or worse a national security breach!"

"Don't use that tone with me, Fitzgerald, I am your wife!"

"Not for much longer. I'll get one of the aides to move my things out into one of the other bedrooms. I'd like to stop pretending that I haven't been sleeping on the couch."

"So I can't hire a therapist but you can move into another bedroom?"

"Yes, that's the gist of it. I'm done with your little publicity stunts."

"I wasn't the one who leaked Olivia's name to the press!"

"No, but you were the one who told James and the world that I was having an affair."

"Because you are! It's the truth!"

"Well, here's another truth you can share with the world - our marriage is over. Starting tonight at the State Dinner, I want people to get used to the idea of not seeing you at my side."

"Then I'll be there with bells on! You can't stop me! This is a free country!"

"Of which I am the Commander-in-Chief! That means I am the Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces - the Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps and Coast Guard! That's nearly two million active personnel against one of you! So stay in your room!"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Fitzgerald! I'm grounded?! You're grounding me?! What are you going to do if I don't listen – get someone to shoot a missile at your itty bitty little wife?"

He gave a mirthless laugh. "Tempting as that sounds, it would cheaper to put you on a Rendition flight."

"You wouldn't!"

"Don't push me!"

* * *

**I know some of you were looking forward to the therapy session – this may not be what you were expecting (!). Dr Mendoza aka Carolina Florez came in Scandal episode 1.04 (****_Enemy of the State_****) and has been used in this story with complete disregard for what her past and future may have been on the show. And…umm.. Fitz isn't going to declare war on Mellie (literally) at least I don't think so at this point – depends on how much longer my insomnia lasts…**


	6. In Plain Sight

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But seriously, I'm all for the Gladiators staging a coup: #FreeFitz #OLITZ #NotAMellitzer #NoJoke **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

It had just gone six when Olivia's doorbell rang. She opened the door to find Dr Carlita Mendoza waiting with Abby.

"I brought wine," Carlita held up a bottle.

"I brought dessert," Abby held up a three-tier chocolate cake.

"Wow, that looks amazing, Abs. All I made was popcorn."

At their expressions, Olivia chuckled, "I'm kidding, I ordered food."

"Oh, phew!" Abby muttered before heading for the kitchen with the cake.

"Carlita! It's so good to see you." Olivia hugged her. "How are the kids?"

"The kids are doing well. They ask about Tia Livia all the time."

"Tell them I'll visit soon. Very soon," Olivia laughed as Abby returned from the kitchen with a wing corkscrew to open the bottle of wine.

They'd nearly finished half of it, before Olivia asked casually, "So how did it go... at the White House?"

Carlita's gaze flickered towards Abby.

"Oh, I'm good at keeping secrets," Abby assured.

"This would be Olivia's secret."

Olivia and Abby exchanged a glance, before Olivia turned to the other woman with a wry smile.

"It's okay, Carlita, Abby and I already know far too many of each other's secrets. One more shouldn't hurt."

"Mrs Grant told me that you are the President's mistress, Olivia."

"That bitch!" Abby exploded.

"Abs, it's all right. Really," Olivia assured, pretending a calm she didn't feel.

"No, it's not! Carlita goes to get funding approval and Melody Grant just blurts out your business? What is wrong with that woman?"

"Abby, Mrs Grant didn't want to talk about funding, she wanted me to help mend her marriage."

Finding that genuinely funny, Olivia started to chuckle, shaking her head. "Oh this is priceless. Truly priceless. You're the marriage counsellor Fitz was talking about."

"Yes," Carlita smiled.

"Okay, someone better fill me in about what's going on because I don't get the joke." Abby frowned.

"Abs, you know Carlita doesn't advocate marriage at all cost, but Mellie obviously does not know that."

"So it's true...Fitz is...?" Carlita ventured.

"Fitz is." Olivia reached for her glass of wine.

There was a pause as they all took a sip from their respective glasses, then Carlita said gently, "He seems like a good man. A kind man. He took the time to ask about my kids."

Olivia's gaze softened. "He loves kids."

"Mrs Grant on the other hand..." Carlita paused.

"Is a bitch!" Abby finished.

"…seems very narcissistic," Carlita qualified. "She is very focused on her wants and needs. It cannot be easy for the President to deal with her, and the country."

A smile tugging at her lips, Olivia said softly, "Carlita, I'm happy to hear you say that, but should you be telling us this?"

"I refused to take her on as my client, Livia."

"Tell me you didn't waste a trip - did they at least approve the grant?"

Carlita didn't respond.

"They didn't?" Olivia frowned. "But that project is almost like your baby. You have to make the documentary. How much do you need?"

"Livvia, please, you have done much, far too much, for me already - you and Abby, both. I am not going to take any more of your money."

"But there must something we can do? Contact people—"

"Or start a crowd funding site online?" Abby suggested.

"Would that be acceptable, Carlita?" Olivia teased.

"That is very acceptable," Carlita smiled.

"Okay, now that's settled. Can we get dinner on the table? I'm so hungry I could eat a horse," Abby got to her feet

As they made to follow her into the dining alcove, Carlita touched a hand to Olivia's arm, holding her back. "You and the President... are you _fixing_ that?"

Olivia tucked Carlita's arm through her own. "I'm trying, but I can no longer trust my gut."

"Livvia, you can always trust your gut. You must stop letting fear close your ears to the message your gut is sending you."

Olivia laughed. "I wish it were that easy."

"Until you learn to listen to your gut again, let me remind you of a piece of advice your gut gave me. You told me when I was starting my new life; when I wanted to go into hiding, you said - 'Carlita, you should hide in plain sight'," she patted Olivia's arm. "Livia, I think it is time for you to do the same."

* * *

It was past two in the morning when Olivia's doorbell rang again. She hurried to open the door, smiling, but that smile disappeared when she looked through the spy hole.

"Hal."

"Ms Pope. The President would like to see you."

"Where's Tom?"

"He's having the night off."

"I see... well, let me get changed."

"The President said he wants you to come as you are." Hal's expression was one of stoic obedience.

Olivia met his steady gaze and smiled. "Of course he does. Okay let's go"

The second secret service agent looked uncomfortable. "Ma'am, I think it's okay if you want to put some clothes on. We'll wait."

"No, the President wants to see me as I am, Matt, and he shall." Olivia patted the man's arm, and led the way to the elevator.

The men drove in complete silence, which was fortunate as Olivia wasn't in the mood for conversation.

Once inside the White House, no one spoke as they made their way to the Executive Residence, with Olivia flanked by the two secret service agents.

She noted that the door they knocked on wasn't didn't belong to the Master Bedroom, but it was Fitz who opened it, dressed in an undershirt and dress pants, his feet bare.

He did a double take at her appearance, before saying with barely contained laughter, "I like your disguise."

"It's avocado - 2.99 on special." Olivia pushed past him, and stood by the four poster bed, her arms crossed over her chest.

Fitz closed the door. "You're mad at me."

"You said you wanted to see me tomorrow, Fitz. This is _not_ tomorrow."

"It's nearly three in the morning – so technically it is tomorrow. Why are you mad at me?"

"You sent Hal."

"Tom is off duty. Did Hal do something? Say something?"

"He said you wanted to see me exactly as I am."

"I'll fire his ass."

"You can't fire his ass! This is on you! You sent Hal because you wanted Mellie to know I was here! And because he is loyal to Mellie, he followed your instructions to the letter – so here I am, Fitz, exactly as I am – wearing a face mask, bathrobe and bedroom slippers!"

"You forgot the shower cap."

At her glare, Fitz instantly wiped the smile off his face, adding, "Liv, I couldn't wait to see you and I thought you'd be wearing something comfortable."

"This is comfortable, Fitz, when you're about to take a bath because you need time to relax and think! This is not comfortable when you're walking down the hallways of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to see the President!"

His gaze shifted from her, then after a moment shifted back. "I can run you a bath."

"Fitz! I don't want you to run me a bath! I want to know what happened with you and Mellie! Where is she? And what are your things doing here?" She waved a hand towards his toiletries and the framed photographs of his mother, his children and herself on the dresser.

"This is where I sleep now. Mellie is at Blair House. I told her to stay in her room. She got upset and moved out of the White House."

"You told Mellie to _stay in her room_?"

"I told her she couldn't go to the State Dinner last night because I wanted people to stop seeing us as a couple, doing couple things."

"And?" she prompted.

"You think there's an 'and'?"

"I _know_ there's an 'and', Fitz."

"_And _I may or may not have threatened to send her on a Rendition Flight if she didn't do as she was told. That was after I reminded her that I am Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces and that the Rendition option was cheaper than shooting a missile at her."

When Olivia didn't respond, Fitz bent slightly to peer into her face. "Are you smiling on the inside?"

"No. You threatened Mellie with a criminal act under the Geneva Convention and hinted at committing treason under the American Constitution."

"I didn't say I _would_ use the full force of the US armed forces against an American citizen on American soil – I just said that it's at my disposal, which is a fact." He reached for the belt knot holding her robe together, but Olivia swatted his hand away.

"You don't get to do that right now!"

"I'm going to fire Hal."

"You can't fire Hal! He took a bullet for you when you got shot! His job is to protect you, Fitz, not to _like _me."

"I'll make 'liking you' a mandatory requirement for all White House agents from now on," Fitz muttered, reaching for her again but she stepped back.

He sighed. "Liv…"

"No."

"Fine. If you're still angry with me, I might as well go for broke." He sat on the bed. "There's something I haven't told you, something I don't want you to find out from Mellie – it was me, Liv… I'm the one who leaked your name to the press."

"I know."

His jaw dropped. "You _know_?"

"I _felt_ in my gut that it was you, but I talked myself out of it because I didn't want to believe it."

Fitz groaned, leaning forward, his head bowed in defeat. "I'm sorry...I've done a lot of stupid, awful things to you, haven't I?"

Feeling the last of her anger lose its tenacious grip, Olivia moved forward, sliding her fingers through his hair, drawing him to lean against her. "What you did was a little bit stupid and a little bit awful ..." she released a sigh, "But I know why you did it. You wanted to stop hiding what we are – who we are to each other."

"Yes…" He sounded relieved.

"But you did it in a way that you couldn't control."

"You're right." His arms crept around her waist.

"And you didn't warn me before you made me the main attraction of that media circus. "

"I'm sorry."

Her hand stilled in his curls. "Fitz, I know what you're doing."

He drew back to look at her, his expression one of complete innocence. Then he carefully eased her onto his lap. "Livvie, as much as I like this new look, it's... distracting."

He watched her for a second. Then with extreme caution reached up to remove the shower cap and toss it aside, before snagging his dress shirt, lying on the bed, to begin wiping her face.

"You'll ruin your shirt."

"I don't care." He wiped her face clean. "Now I can see you..." He feathered kisses on her nose, her cheek and forehead, before drawing back to smile at her "Hello, my love."

He kissed her softly; she kissed him back.

Olivia gave a soft chuckle when he slowly lowered her onto the bed. "You are good."

"Yes, I am."

That made her giggle. "You are good at distracting me, but we have to talk; you have to stop being so reckless."

Fitz propped himself up on one elbow, as he deftly untied her robe. "I'm tired of waiting to start my life with you."

He lifted the edges of her robe away and smoothed his hand over her belly, down to tease between her thighs,. It felt deeply arousing and incredibly sweet the way he held her gaze as her breath started to leave her lips in puffs.

"Livvie," he murmured in a sexy undertone that made her shiver. "I love you," he whispered, leaning down to stroke his rough cheek over her breasts, before his wet mouth closed over a nipple.

She moaned, trying to remember what they'd been talking about. It was only when he raised his head, that she managed to find the strength to hold him back.

"Liv?"

It took her a moment to find her voice. "Fitz, you haven't even announced your plans to run for re-election and you're already trying to get White House staff to spread rumours about trouble in your marriage."

He rumbled a laugh over her sensitised skin. "You are nothing if not persistent. And those rumours would be factual."

Trying not to focus on the more immediate fact that his fingers were driving her crazy, Olivia made a superhuman effort to keep to topic. "And Mellie… she.. uh… oh! OH! Fitz…!"

He grinned down at her, "What, baby?"

Olivia hummed with desire, but managed to say what was on her mind before she lost it completely, "You've set Mellie off…!" She panted. "And you don't know…how far she'll go."

"So," Fitz lowered his mouth to her neck. "The chicken and egg question is what should I have done first –announce my intention to run, or that I'm divorcing Mellie?"

Olivia closed her eyes, letting herself drown in sensation for a moment. Then, desperate for more, she pushed away and sat up, tugging at his undershirt.

Grinning Fitz helped her pull it off, but his face grew fierce with desire when she began stroking him through his pants.

"Take it off," he said hoarsely.

"I'm going to."

"Take it off now."

She stopped stroking him, and sat back.

With an impatient growl, he shucked off what remained of his clothing and tackled her down against the pillows before sliding her arms up until their hands were linked above her head.

"Did you just overpower me with an _unfair, physical_ advantage?" she whispered, wrapping her legs around him.

"Livvie, you can knock me out with a smile," he groaned as she began rubbing against him.

"That's a nice way of admitting," she breathed into his ear, "That you are guilty as charged." As punishment, she deepened her movements into a languid rhythm that made him curse.

"That...feels...so..." He began, but apparently gave up on words as he dropped his forehead to rest against her shoulder.

Olivia licked his ear, then lost the ability to think when he bit and suckled her neck.

"So," he muttered eventually, releasing her hands to give himself leverage "Chicken or Egg?"

"Fitz, I really don't want to talk about poultry right now," she husked, wrapping her arms around his waist; rising up to meet his mouth.

* * *

** Dear Readers: I am really, truly grateful to, and inspired by, you all... which is why it saddens me to say that I am having trouble writing the love scenes (the sexy time bits). I don't want to be stuck in a world of fluff - but that's my comfort zone. I don't have trouble ****_imagining_**** hot scenes (*****_blush_*****), but every time I try to put the images into words... it feels like I'm ruining the Vermont Magic with clinical terms like cooch/hoohah; cobra/dong...**

**(Wait! Has idea! Goes off to read – for instructional purposes – ****_The Ultimate Heist, The Paradox Equation I & II_****, and... can't find any Purple Pineapple stories: what? WHAT?! Why? Whyeeeeee?!...Goes off to have a ****_MINOR_**** meltdown...)**


	7. The First Lady Problem

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #FreeFitz #OLITZ #NotAMellitzer #NoJoke **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Say 'gah', Ella, 'ga-ah'," James coaxed, holding a spoonful of apple and mango puree in front of the baby's mouth. "So Mellie's moved to Blair House?"

"Yes." Cyrus kept his attention on the Wall Street Journal.

Wiping orange goop from Ella's face, James added, "And Olivia had plumbing issues at her place, that's why she needed to come all the way to the White House to take a shower?"

"Now that's just salacious gossip, James."

"So it's true – Fitz and Liv are finally coming out of the closet!" James clapped mainly for baby Ella's benefit, as she promptly gurgled and clapped along with him. "Yay! "

Cyrus chewed on a piece of toast, and tried not to roll his eyes.

"Now that Ella and I have celebrated the occasion, can I get confirmation of the facts from an official White House source? No names of course."

Cyrus thumped the paper on the table and glared at James.

"Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to enjoy my eggs on toast without needing an antacid pill? Why do you always have to turn breakfast into the Spanish Inquisition? Do you think Ella needs to hear the gutter press at work this early in the morning?"

"Oh look, Ella, Daddy Cyrus is being a party pooper; a real big poop-poop-poop."

"Is that what you're teaching our daughter - P is for Poop. Do you want her to end up being the Governor of Alaska? Ella, say 'Presidential Primaries'. That's right, sweetheart, pres-i-den-tial prim-a-ries."

"No say, Pulitzer Prize Winning Journalist, baby girl. Pul-it-zer."

"Poolster." Ella grinned happily, showing off her four front teeth.

"See!" James cried gleefully. "I knew it! I knew Ella would take after me! You cutie!" He gave her a big kiss, which made her chortle and Cyrus scowl.

"I don't know why she'd want to take after you, when you're the one spreading nasty rumours about her godparents."

"They are only nasty if they're untrue and we're not happy for them. Isn't that right baby girl? And we are hap-hap-happy for them, aren't we?"

Cyrus glared at him, then got distracted watching Ella lean forward, holding out her arms to be carried, with James quickly complying. "What's that on her arm?"

"It's just a rash. I've already taken Ella to the doctor. He said it's nothing serious and prescribed an ointment."

"That quack! You trusted him when he told you there's nothing to worry about?! Look, just bring Ella to the White House, and I'll get one of the medics there to have a look."

"Oh, you mean, the Military medics who are experts in shrapnel and bullet wounds?"

"Yeah, those medics."

* * *

"So…three sitting Presidents had their wives die on them while they were in Office. Do we know what the wives died of?"

"It doesn't matter what they died of. There are ways and means to make things happen. If you know the right people and have the right tools. The thing is to decide how you want to make it happen –natural causes or a horrible accident?"

"Horrible accident. But can we make sure the President isn't involved in it? I don't want him getting hurt; Liv would kill us—"

" . ?!" Quinn slammed the screen shut, nearly taking Huck's fingers out, and snatched the laptop away. "Liv said _death_ is not an option."

Abby and Huck stared at her, then Abby calmly turned to Huck and said, "So how can we make the horrible accident happen?"

"Ugh!" Quinn sat down, putting the laptop on the table and banging her head against it repeatedly.

Harrison, who had so far been watching the tableau, interrupted, "Look, I know you guys want a permanent solution to the First Lady problem but Quinn has an idea."

"What kind of idea?" Abby frowned suspiciously.

"You know Liv and the Prez have been keeping their intentions on the down low, because everyone is afraid of what it'll do it his career. And that fear is based on those damn opinion polls Fitz's main man, Cyrus Beene, organised?"

"Yes," Huck said, while Abby remained silent.

"Well, we had a look at those polls, and we found some really nasty-assed stuff, like this question right here – 'Do you think the President of the United States should emulate a deadbeat dad by abandoning his wife and unborn child days before its birth?'"

"What?!" Abby sprang up, snatching the printout from Harrison's grasp. "They did not ask that!"

"They did and it gets worse – 'Do you think the President can be trusted to keep the oath of Office, witnessed under God, when he couldn't keep the vows of marriage made in the House of God?'"

"The fiend!"

"Do you want me to add the White House Chief-of-Staff to your hit list?" Huck asked Abby.

Harrison answered for her. "No, I told you Quinn has a better idea – better because no one has to die, which is a good thing because I don't want my ass back in jail as an accessory to your shit."

"I am a professional," Huck glared at him.

"Quinn isn't - so I can't _wait_ to hear what she come up with." Abby crossed her arms and exaggerated enthusiasm.

"We do another poll. Pose the questions differently but about the same subject and see what we get."

"That's a crap idea!" Abby cried. "It'll take too long. We don't have time to waste selecting subject groups; setting up the logistics for conducting surveys and extrapolating the results. It'll take forever."

"Not if we let loose a bunch of foot soldiers with clipboards at Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York next week. That's nearly three and a half million people."

"Including tourists, criminals, vagrants and undocumented illegals who can't, won't or shouldn't vote," Abby said dismissively.

"Well, we can structure the questions to weed out the undesirables, and to reflect the angle we want," Quinn said. "And this time we focus solely on divorce, instead of burying the questions in a three-page questionnaire on Family Values. That way we plant the seed – the idea of a Presidential divorce – in people's minds and word will spread."

Abby tapped a foot, arms folded across her chest, considering. Then she snapped, "And the foot soldiers?"

"Yeah, I got that organised, through friends of friends," Harrison added.

"And I can get the electronic software to tabulate the paper surveys, using an ordinary printer/scanner and desktop."

Abby's stance became less defensive, and Quinn smiled, "It could work right? So it's not a crap idea?"

"Well it's certainly not the worst idea you've ever had," Abby admitted. "But we have to run it past Liv."

"Were you going to run your kill-plan by Liv too?" Quinn narrowed her gaze.

Abby and Huck exchanged a glance, then Abby gave a nonchalant shrug. "Of course."

"After we had done it," Huck said solemnly.

* * *

"Cyrus! There you are, I've been looking for you all morning!"

"I can't talk now, Mellie, I have an emergency to sort out." Cyrus quickened his stride.

"What kind of emergency? A _national _emergency?" Mellie stepped up her pace to keep up with Cyrus. "Ooh, what happened?"

"Ella has a rash."

"Oh." Mellie's eager anticipation dimmed. "Why is that an emergency? Is it contagious?"

Cyrus stopped abruptly, turning to her. "Probably."

"Oh," Mellie drew back, and almost turned away, then paused. "Wait, does that mean James is here? Can I talk to him? It's been so long since he visited; I just want to know how he's doing?"

"He's teaching Ella to say poop. There now you're all caught up." Cyrus resumed walking.

* * *

"Where are you?"

Olivia smiled at the greeting. "I'm just coming out of the salon. My hair needed emergency maintenance this morning."

"I like it kinky."

"I know you do."

They shared a naughty chuckle.

Then Fitz asked softly, "Did you get any sleep?"

"A couple of hours. You?"

"Same. You could have stayed you know."

She laughed, "And run into White House staff in my robe and monster-sized bed hair? Not happening."

"You're laughing. Does that mean I'm forgiven for the whole Hal fiasco?"

Olivia lowered her voice to a husky purr. "Mr…Sexy…President, I recall forgiving you a couple of times last night."

They shared another naughty chuckle.

Then she said on a more serious note, "Did you speak to Mellie?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Fitz."

"Liv, this phone is on a no-Mellie-talk plan."

She gusted a laugh. "Okay, got it."

He sighed. "What are you doing now?"

"I'm on my way to buy a scarf."

"A scarf?"

"I need a cover up. I didn't notice until I was under the lights at the salon that I have a bite mark on my neck." Hearing his soft grunt, she stopped walking, "Fitz.."

"Mmmhmmm..."

"Fitz!" She started to laugh.

"Livvie, you know I can't control my erections around you... and when you say words like _bite_... and then laugh that laugh of yours...mmmmm…" His happy sigh rumbled in Olivia's ear.

"Okay, that's it! I have to go!"

"Wait, when are you coming over?"

"I am not coming over." She wiped tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Livvie..."

"No, because I'll be seeing you tonight."

"But that's more than twelve hours away."

She smiled, but said firmly, "I have to meet my guys today. They have an idea for the Free Fitz Operation."

He chuckled huskily. "Is that what they're calling it?"

"Yep."

"Can they change it to FFTBWL?"

"FFTBWL?"

"Free-Fitz-To-Be-With-Liv."

* * *

"James, oh it's so good of you to come." Mellie smiled, as James entered her office in the East Wing.

"I was told you wanted to see me on an urgent matter. By the way, where did your assistant take Ella?"

"Oh, just outside to get some fresh air. I didn't want Teddy to get whatever she has. That boy is such a delicate little thing. I have to be so careful protecting the President's children, that's such an important job to me."

"Ella just has a rash. I told Cyrus not to fuss but he wouldn't listen. Will this take long? I don't want Ella to start fretting."

"Oh, she'll be fine. Can I get you anything to drink – coffee? Tea?"

"Nothing, thank you."

Mellie smiled at James, then as he watched her smile fluttered and faded, and her eyes filled with tears. "Excuse me," She stood up abruptly.

"Mellie! What's wrong?" James came over quickly to stand at her side.

"Oh James, I just don't know what to do. The shame of it...!"

"The shame of what?"

"My marriage, James. The total wreckage of my marriage! I never thought—" She clutched at his arm. "My husband and my best friend! How could they do this to me?! The rumours are just everywhere... everywhere! All over the White House!"

"Mellie...I, uh, would you like me to get Cyrus?"

"No," Mellie's grip tightened on his harm, as he took a step back. "No, I want to talk to you, James. Better yet, I want to talk to the American people. I want them to know what's going on. What Fitz has done to me, what he has threatened to do to me..."

* * *

That night, after getting into bed and adjusting the pillows for comfort, James turned to Cyrus and asked, "Is Mellie on something? If not, should she be on something?"

Cyrus peered over his reading glasses. "Is this some kind of verbal Sudoku I have to unravel before bedtime?"

"Mellie told me today that Fitz threatened to launch a missile at her."

Cyrus raised brow lowered, and he pointedly went back to reading.

"She also said Fitz was going to send her on a Rendition Flight."

"Was that before or after he blew her up with a missile?" Cyrus turned a page.

"I don't know. She was vague on the details."

"Hmphf."

"Probably because she only gave me a preview… an incentive, to get me to do an indepth two-hour television interview with her."

"Gawd, that woman!" Cyrus slammed his book shut. "Are you going to do it?! Are you going to help her make a fool of herself?! In front of the entire nation?! No, the whole world because after the foreign press get a hold of this, we'll be a laughing stock!

"I can just see the leaders of Syria and North Korea rolling in the aisles over this! Disarmament treaty talks will be a joke fest from now on! And to think that _you _– my husband! – is involved in destroying my life's work; destroying the very thing that brought us together – the Grant Administration!" He took a deep breath, and glared at James, "Well, are you?"

"Yes, I am well; thank you for asking. Especially after that blistering shoot-the-messenger rant you just gave. I didn't say I was going to help her. I mean seriously, the woman sounded deranged. And as much as I believe in Free Speech and the public's right to know, I don't want stock markets crashing because people realise the President is married to Mrs Looney Tunes. We have Ella's college fund to consider."

"Thank heavens for small mercies," Cyrus put his book on the bedside table, and removed his glasses.

"I'm just glad that Grant is finally divorcing her."

Cyrus jerked his head to face him. "Fitz isn't divorcing Mellie! He can't!"

James stared in confusion. "But..."

"No buts, there is no way the President can divorce his wife. Have you forgotten Defiance? The only thing keeping Mellie from spilling her guts about the election-rigging is that she knows if it all gets out – she can say sayonara to the perks of being First Lady.

"And that's all she wants; all she's ever wanted – to be Queen Bee over her minions; to be popular in the public eye; to be adored by complete strangers. That's not too much to ask, and I've made sure that she's got what she wanted, by doing what I can to keep her marriage intact. Not for her sake, but for Fitz.

"If you thought Watergate was bad for Nixon, it will be nothing compared to what Defiance will do to this administration, to Liv, to us; if Fitz divorces Mellie, he could very well become the first American President to be impeached and forced out of office."

* * *

**THANK YOU ALL for being so nice with your encouragement, story ideas and about my sex-writing shortcomings… and umm… I have been reading ****_Friends with Benefits_**** (fans self repeatedly-phew!) which is why I am now comfortable writing the word '****_erection_****'. Yes, that's right, applause welcome – especially as I put an '****_s_****' on the end of it.**

**Seriously, though, I've always hated the original scene-setting for that phrase – Fitz not being able to control his ****_erections _****around Liv (there, I wrote it again!) – so in this chapter, I've pretended that he never said it to her when they came out of the closet in ****_Whiskey Tango Foxtrot_**** (Scandal 2.14). BTW, Closetgate itself was ****_hottttt…_**

**On that note, I better go. Until next time, dear readers and fellow insomniacs, I will leave you with lots of platonic xxxxxs.**


	8. Elephants In The Room

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I support a Gladiator coup: #FreeFitz #OLITZ #NotAMellitzer #NoJoke **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Cyrus, why does Mellie have 35 staff to herself?" Was the first question Fitz had after skimming the books in Cyrus' office. He'd arrived before his official schedule began, to start the ball rolling on getting Mellie permanently out of the White House.

"You told me to give her anything she wants to keep her out of your hair, when we came to the White House. And what Mellie wanted was thirty-five staff."

"For what? What do they all do?"

"Well, she needs five people to help her plan special events; four to open her mail and answer the phone; two to arrange the flowers; two to help her keep track of her schedule; two to help her keep track of yours; five to make her look presentable - you know hair, make-up, nails—"

"She has five staff to do her nails?"

"From what I recall, she has one to do her nails. Then there's another one for hair, and—"

Fitz held up a hand. "Does this include the staff for Teddy?"

"No, that's separate – we have three nurses to change Teddy's diapers; a nutritionist to plan his meals; his own chef to turn fruit into goop; a guy to take him for walks and another guy to accompany the first guy to make sure Teddy doesn't get kidnapped, in the unlikely event that the Secret Service aren't doing their job."

"And they are all paid by Treasury? How did I not know this?"

"No, only the salaries for five of Mellie's staff members come out of Treasury; everything else gets paid from the joint account you set up for household maintenance and other sundry extravagances."

"I'll call my accountants. Get them to close that account. Mellie was ornamental not functional, and now she is simply extraneous. She does not need this many people at her beck and call. I want her staff reduced to the five allocated. Teddy's can remain as is."

"What are we doing with the other thirty pilot fish of Mellie's? We can't fire them days before Thanksgiving. What would they have to be thankful for? And it's not our platform - we're the party that creates jobs, at least that's the official line, and doing this now will have the wrong ripple effect: you know tightening budgets heralding economic gloom ending in a fiscal cliff."

"Find them something else to do. Mellie will have to curtail her spending. On a more practical side, we can't fit thirty-five staff in Blair House."

"In Blair House? The First Lady's Office is in the East Wing?"

"I want her to move out of there. I want to restrict her access to the White House. Having her here just confuses people as to the state of our marriage."

"So you'll be going to Blair House to visit Teddy?"

"Teddy stays with me. I intend to get full custody of my children."

"So this is serious? You really mean to go through with the divorce?"

"Of course! Did you think I was kidding?"

"Well I was hoping. I was waiting for it to all blow over, as it always does – you know the two of you get into a fight; threaten Armageddon; initiate Cold War; I negotiate a bilateral peace treaty and things go back to normal until the next cycle."

"I'm tired of that rinse and repeat cycle, Cy. The new normal will be my life with Liv."

"That's a pipe dream, Fitz."

"Because Presidents don't get divorced?"

"Are you forgetting the other elephant in the room?"

* * *

"Do you know that I now need _his permission_ to go to the Oval Office? I feel like a delinquent student going to the principal's office! And he's cut my staff allowance to five! Even a Democrat's wife had 18! And worse – he wants _her_ there with the children, when he pardons the Thanksgiving turkey."

Sitting in the Lincoln Room at Blair House, Hollis had what he considered the best seat in the house for Mellie's amateur dramatics, and he wasn't about to deny himself the pleasure of audience participation. "You mean to tell me you've got your panties in a wad over a damn bird?"

"That bird is _Olivia Pope_!"

"So we're not talking about the main event on the grub table, served with cranberry sauce and bacon stuffing?"

"I'm not talking about that ugly big chicken equivalent! I'm talking about my rights, Hollis! Fitz is taking away everything I hold dear—"

"Yes, yes, I heard your jaw flapping about how you now need permission to enter the Big House. And you lost to a Democrat in a pissing contest about staff numbers. But you were the one who packed your bags and hightailed it here in the first place. You've got to remember, Mellie, if you have a foot in the door, they can't slam the door in your face, now can they?"

"Hollis, I didn't get you here to listen to your annoying little homilies,"

"Damned if I know what you got me down here for then, darlin'. I sincerely hoped it was because you'd finally got wind of El Presidente's love nest in Vermont."

"What are you talking about?" Mellie frowned.

"Oh, you didn't know about that? Oh, this is going to be fun," Hollis chortled. "Well, you pour me another cup of coffee and I'll tell you all about it, hon."

Getting his refill, Hollis sat back. "So I want you to picture this, 50 acres or so of prime farming land, green hills, trees, a mountain view… You can almost see it, can't you? Well, Fitzy Boy got all that for Ms Olivia Pope. Yessiree, that man bought all that glorious acreage with productive fruit trees so his little woman could make jam. Jam! Now isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard.

"And it gets better, Fitzy Boy didn't just buy the land he built Ms Pope a great big old house made of wood and stone – I heard he even supervised the design and fitting of a damn skylight in the Master Bedroom, so they could lie in each other's arms and count the stars. Man, I'm getting all choked up just talking about it."

"He built her a house?" Mellie asked slowly, her fingers toying with her pearls. "Does she know about it?"

"Know about it?" Hollis scoffed, "Hell, they christened the place together a few days ago. Fitzy flew her down there, in an Air Force Military Helicopter no less, and gave her the grand tour himself. El Grande Personal Tour – if you catch my drift."

After taking a slurp of coffee, extra loudly because he knew it annoyed Mellie, Hollis continued, "I'd say this was right around the time your little straw house got tossed in the wind. Guess the loving was pretty darn good for Fitzy Boy to starting pissing on his chances of getting re-elected."

Hollis drank his coffee, waiting for Mellie's reaction. He didn't have to wait long.

"I want it destroyed."

"Oh and how are you going to do that? Got a direct line to God and his stock of thunder bolts and lightning rods?"

"I want you to blow it up."

"Blow it up?" Hollis scoffed a laugh.

"Yes! Blow it up! Dynamite it! Pulverise it! Leave nothing standing!"

Sighing, Hollis placed his coffee cup and saucer on the table. "Mellie, Mellie, Mellie you know I love you for the crazy loon that you are, but I can't do that. The Governor of Vermont is a friend of mine. I can't have every Federal Agency in the country crawling all over his little state, looking for the next terror cell; not when the poor man is about to run for the Senate."

"But you used a bomb to get rid of Jessie Tyler."

"You're talking two different buckets of possums, woman. Back then we had bona fide terrorists on the loose; we had government sanctioned wire taps and we had Fox News. Hell, any man in a turban could get people worked up.

"Now, that's all changed. They caught Bin Ladin. That man is dead. I can't go blowing things up for the heck of it, unless you've got another convenient terrorist for me to pin it on. If you have one of those in your handy bag of Halloween tricks, then we'll be cooking with grease but for now…." He spread his hands and shrugged.

"Then I'll do it. Tell me where it is, and I'll go bulldoze the place, even if I have to swing the wrecking ball myself."

"Mellie, why do you keep digging up tiny taters. It's a house, woman, bricks and mortar. You destroy this house, Fitzy Boy will just build himself another one. Hell, he'll surely make it bigger and better now that he's getting serviced on the regular."

"Don't be disgusting."

"Sex ain't disgusting, honey. You'd know that if you had a good man to loosen up them starched collars of yours."

"Can we get back to how I deal with Ms Pope," Mellie gritted pleasantly.

"Your wish is my command, darlin'. So let me give you the bacon without the sizzle – you need to focus on the elephant in the room."

* * *

"Are we good to go?" Quinn looked around the table. "Everyone happy?"

"Liv approved this?"

"Not the questions in detail but the general concept, yes."

"Huh." Harrison looked down at his copy of the draft survey.

"Why? What's wrong?" Quinn went round to stand behind Harrison, peering over his shoulder, to see exactly what he'd spotted that she had missed. "Do you think we should have more questions? I thought it would be better short and sweet, to keep people from getting annoyed."

"I'm not talking about the numbers, I'm talking about the _wording_."

"We agreed that the survey should be one page with three questions, worded differently on two halves of the sheet: one set to identify the Republicans and the other to identify the Democrats based on what they tick."

Harrison looked towards Abby and Huck, who stared back at him in blank confusion. He sighed. "Okay, let me put this another way, I'm talking about the _theme _of the questions."

"The theme is 'do you want the government to ban divorce? If not, do you believe the President should have the right to get one?' Or words to that effect," Abby shrugged.

"And the Republicans get the wording on Constitutional rights, and the Democrats get the freedom of choice," Quinn added.

"Yada, yada, yada," Abby finished.

"But none of them even _hint_ at the real problem," Harrison persisted.

"What's the real problem?" Huck frowned.

"The Prez is white and Liv is black. A white man is leaving his white wife for a black woman. There's nothing on here dealing with the question of race. We need a question that asks – 'can you deal with having a black woman in the White House?'"

"Oh my God," Abby clutched her hands to her face. "Liv is black? When did this happen? Why did no one tell me?"

"Did you know Liv is black?" Quinn turned to Huck.

'Nope, no one told me," he replied solemnly.

"Oh yeah, this is amusing to you all, but you see me laughing? I ain't laughing because that shit ain't funny."

"Harrison, calm down. We're light years away from the racist days of Jim Crow."

"Emphasis on _light_ ."

Quinn sat down next to Harrison. "I don't know why you're worried about that. Liv is a successful businesswoman – her clients don't care about her colour. And the President obviously doesn't. The man loves her as we all do."

"Remember Sarah Stanner? She thought Abby were Olivia Pope."

"That's because I'm taller than Liv. Tall people always get noticed first."

"Yep," Quinn nodded, "People always go around staring at Redwoods, stepping on the little shrubby things at the bottom while they're doing it."

"Exactly," Abby nodded. "I'm the Redwood, and she's the little shrubby thing."

"Okay, you guys keep joking around but you're gonna learn. You. Are. Going. To. Learn. Because no matter what you guys think, I know there is no hiding from this elephant in the room."

* * *

**A/N: So I'm not sure about the timeline for Scandal but I going with – ****_before _****Barack Obama won two terms as President, even though he was the one who got Bin Ladin. (Using that artistic licence with generous brushstrokes again…!). **

**Also apologies to anyone from Hollis' neck of the woods – I got most of his phrasing off a Google search on Texan sayings – and twisted them to fit this story.**

**I have to admit: When I started writing this, I had no idea that watching a TV show called ****_Yes Prime Minister _****on repeat for most of my young adult life had inoculated me from writing ****_seriously_**** about politics.**

**Which is strange. Because in real life (when I'm not writing) I get ****seriously**** worked up about a lot of things: human ****_cruelty_****; animal ****_extinction; _****planetary ****_destruction_****; ****_space debris!_****... Deep breath… yes, all those therapist bills are soooo worth it…**

**Note: Thank you for mentioning the use of ****_A/N_**** in the comments section :)**


	9. Reunion

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #FreeFitz #OLITZ #NotAMellitzer #NoJoke **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"What's wrong?" Olivia asked softly, massaging his tense shoulders.

"Mmm…don't...stop..." Fitz mumbled against her breasts.

"You are avoiding the question," she said after a while, resting her fingers against his skin.

Fitz sighed. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice." He shifted to lie beside her, so they faced each other on the same pillow. "I'm having the kids over for Thanksgiving."

"I know." Olivia smiled, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek. "I wasn't expecting to have sleepovers while they were here."

Fitz caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "I'm not hiding you from the kids. That's not what this is about."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I'm bringing them up here before the holidays. I want to spend time with them. More than the usual couple of hours I get before they get shipped off to have Thanksgiving with Mellie's parents."

"Why are you nervous about that?" She curled her fingers around his, so their hands were linked against his heart.

"It's been so long since I've seen them, Liv. I'm nervous."

"Fitz," Olivia leaned forward, to give him a gentle kiss. "Teddy adores you. I adore you. Even Cyrus, when he's having a good day, adores you."

Fitz grinned, rolling over and carrying her with him to lie on his chest. "I love being able to see Teddy whenever I want to, without having to schedule appointments. And it's been so great having the little guy at the Oval office. Did I tell you that he hauled himself up to stand all by himself trying to touch the bust of Abraham Lincoln. He's one determined kid."

Olivia smiled, but when Fitz began to tense up again, her smile disappeared and she sighed. "Fitz...?"

"I want them to live here in the White House, Liv. Karen and Jerry – I want them here, and I'm not sure how they'll feel about that or if they'll want to do that – leave their grandparents and come live with me."

"Fitz, you're their dad. Ask them, see what happens, give them a few days to think about if you have to."

"So you think they'll be okay with this?"

"All I know is, just like Teddy, Karen and Jerry will adore you too, once they realise that the big hairy guy behind the desk is their dad."

Fitz stared at her solemnly, then grinned at her yelp of laughter when he started to tickle her.

* * *

"Sir, um, the children are here to see you," Lauren said, interrupting the daily briefing as she had been asked to.

"Send them in." Fitz closed the file in his hands and got to his feet, just as a couple of secret service agents escorted two kids into the Oval Office.

As soon as his eight-year old daughter saw him, Karen's face broke into a wide grin and she ran straight into his arms, crying, "Daddy!"

"Hello, pumpkin. I missed you so much! Did you miss me?"

"Yes," she said, circling her arms around his neck in a stranglehold.

With a lump in his throat, Fitz hugged her back just as fiercely until she released him. Then he set her down on her feet, before taking her hand and walking over to the teenaged boy, who smiled at him.

"Hello Dad."

His advisers looked at the boy, then at Fitz, then shuffled to their feet, mumbling about work and seeing him later, before hurriedly making their exit. Only Cyrus remained.

Fitz smiled. "Hello."

"Hello, dad," the boy repeated.

"Your name is?"

"Jerry."

"Jerry..."

"Jerry Grant. I am your son."

"I see. And how long have you been my son?"

"Since I was born. Fourteen years ago. And this is my sister, Karen."

Karen nodded solemnly.

"Is this a joke?" Fitz looked at the Secret Service agents. "Where is Jerry's detail? Are they with my son? Is he hiding?"

"I'm here, dad, I'm Jerry Grant."

Cyrus stepped in, thrusting his face close to the boy's. "Okay, young man, this joke has gone on far enough! Where is the President's son?!"

"Hello, Cyrus. How is James and your daughter, Ella?"

Cyrus looked apoplectic. "How do you know my family?!"

"I am the President's son."

"No, you are _not_! If you don't tell us right here, right now, who you are – I will get the Secret Service guys to take you down to the basement for questioning!"

"To be tortured?"

Cyrus paused, then said solemnly. "That would be a given."

"Can I ask for a lawyer?"

"No, you cannot!"

"So all the stories Jerry said—!"

"Aha!" Cyrus cried. "So you admit you're not Jerry!"

The boy smacked a hand to his head, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Then Karen surprised Fitz, by releasing his hand and walking over to take the boy's. "You did very well, Peter. Jerry would be so proud of you."

Turning to Fitz, the little girl said, "Jerry's still at Andover, Daddy. He didn't want to come for Thanksgiving. He said you hardly see him anyway, so you wouldn't know the difference if someone else turned up in his place."

"But this kid is Chinese!" Cyrus jerked a finger at Peter.

"I'm Malaysian."

"Same difference – some Asian."

Fitz stared at his daughter, trying to come to grips with how hurt he felt, and how much pain he felt for his son.

"Daddy, are you okay?"

"No, kiddo, I have to go get Jerry," Fitz said thickly.

"But, sir," Cyrus blocked his path, "You have the delegates from the American Medical Association arriving in fifteen minutes. Remember _you _invited them to discuss the proposed amendments to the health bill."

"Can you brief Sally, have her meet with them? I have to get my son."

"Can I come with you, Daddy?"

"Me too, sir, since you're not my father. I should go back to my dorm."

* * *

An couple of hours later, Fitz opened the door to his son's room and walked in.

"Sir, I'm not being rude or stubborn, I just don't want to see him."

"Why not?" Fitz watched his son jerk a glance over his shoulder, before turning swiftly back to stare out the window.

"I thought you were Mr Galfrey," Jerry muttered, referring to the Head of School.

"I told him I wanted to speak to you alone."

"You shouldn't have come. I'm not going anywhere with you."

Seeing his son's straight, stiff back, Fitz felt his heart sink. He didn't know what else to say, so he sat on Jerry's bed and waited.

While waiting, Fitz studied the boy he'd carried on his shoulders; the cheeky tearaway who'd always come running for a hug; his son who'd stay up late to show him the A+ grades he got on his homework, then just as proudly display the bruises he'd got falling out of a tree.

Fitz felt his heart break all over again to realise that his little boy was nearly as tall as him, and now couldn't even bare to look at him.

Suddenly, Jerry bit out, "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the White House? Running the country?"

"That's just my job, Jerry. You're my son. You are more important to me."

"That's a lie." Jerry muttered. "Bet you wouldn't know me if we passed each other on the street."

"Did you really think I wouldn't know the difference between you and Peter Leong?"

"That was a joke. I didn't want to go, and he wanted to see the White House."

"So you did it as favour to your friend?"

"Yes. His parents are in Malaysia; he doesn't have any family here to celebrate Thanksgiving. I thought he could spend it with you since you'd need a boy to fill the 'son' space in the family photos."

"Jerry..."

When Jerry didn't acknowledge the plea, Fitz continued, regardless. "You're wrong to think I wouldn't know you. I'd know you anywhere. _You_ are my son."

There was another long silence, which Jerry broke abruptly by asking, "Will Peter get in trouble for impersonating me? It was my fault – I told him to do it. So he shouldn't get deported. His parents spent a lot of money sending him over here and he gets good grades."

"Peter is not getting deported, and I've already told him he could spend Thanksgiving with us."

A harsh gasp of laughter burst out of Jerry. "Congratulations, sir! You have a son! Now go away and leave me alone!"

"You don't get to talk to me that way, Jerry."

"Why not?!"

"I'm your father."

"My father!" Jerry swung round. "I hardly get to see you! First you ship me and Karen off to live with Grandma and Grandpa Watson in Virginia. They wouldn't even know we were there most of the time! They treat us like show ponies, on display when they have dinner guests: '_Dear_ Mr-and-Mrs-Lovely-Friends-of-Ours, meet Jerry and Karen _Grant_, the _President's_ children. The poor darlings are staying with us, instead of the _White House_, because the _President _and our daughter Melody, the _First Lady_ want them to have a normal life. Well, as normal as you can get when you belong to one of the _First Families_ in Virginia_'._"

Jerry did such a good imitation of Mellie's mother, that in other circumstances Fitz would have laughed. Now all he said was, "Jer, I thought you liked living with your grandparents."

"I hated it! I hate them!" The boy spat. "And Karen hates it too. At least when we were staying together, we had each other. But then you went and split us up. Now I'm here in Massachusetts and she's there with them all alone. So tell me, _father_, who'll protect Karen now, when Grandma Watson yells at her for wetting the bed or tell the poor kid everything's going to be all right when she gets scared in the middle of a thunderstorm?! Those nannies they've got for Karen, who get changed more often than table linen, don't care about her! And neither do you!"

"Son, I'm sorry—" Fitz tried to reach for his son, but Jerry pushed him away.

"No!"

"Jerry—!"

"No, get out! I want you out!" Jerry pushed him towards the door, but Fitz resisted, until they both staggered and nearly fell to the floor.

"Jerry! Stop! If you want me out! You have to go with me, because I'm not leaving without you!"

Just then, when Fitz thought it couldn't get any worse, Jerry burst into tears, sobbing loudly, fighting to get free when Fitz hauled him into his arms. "I tried to get you to go, Dad! Why didn't you listen?! I tried to get you to go...!"

The boy wept as Fitz held on tight, not letting go, feeling his own tears flow down his face as he held his son in his arms. When Jerry started to hiccup, Fitz helped him towards the bed, sitting down beside Jerry, rubbing his son's back, waiting for him to calm down.

When the hiccups subsided, Fitz said softly, "Jerry, I love you. I'm sorry you haven't felt like I do. But I do. So much. And I'm going to do everything I can to make you believe that."

Shifting away from Fitz, his son pulled his sweater sleeve over his knuckles, and roughly swept his arm across his face. "What's going to happen to us when you leave Mom?"

At the gruff question, Fitz felt a sting of shock. "Who told you that?"

"Dad, this is the 21st century. I have access to the Internet."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to tell you guys myself, when you came over for the holidays."

"So that's what this is about? You wanted to bring us together as a family, to tell us that we're breaking apart?"

"Actually, Jer, I wanted to know how you and Karen would feel about living with me in the White House; going to a school in DC."

The boy shot him a glance from the corner of his eye, then returned his gaze swiftly back to the floor.

"You don't have to do that just because I cried. I don't usually do that. Honest."

Fitz smiled for the first time since he stepped into the room. "Jer, it's okay to cry. I do it too. See," He pointed to his own wet cheeks.

After another darting glance, Jerry muttered, "So that's where I probably get it from then."

"Smart ass."

Jerry's lips twitched but he continued to be fascinated by the carpet. "So is Aunt Liv okay about us living with you guys?"

Fitz felt another jolt of shock. "How do you know about her?"

"Blind items."

"Blind items?"

"Gossip about people who aren't named. They call her the 'chocolate babe', and she is a babe."

"Hey!"

"I'm only telling the truth. The guys here think she's hot."

"What? They've seen her? On the Internet?"

"No. They saw when she came over to fix the bully."

"The bully – what bully?"

Colour tinged his son's cheeks. "There was a senior giving some of the freshmen a hard time. They wouldn't tell me who it was, so I called Aunt Liv. She found the guy and got him expelled."

"When did that happen? Recently? She didn't tell me anything about it."

"She couldn't. I was her client. We had a business deal. I paid her and she agreed not to tell you."

"You paid her?"

"Yeah, kinda. She asked me to take her out to dinner."

"Did you?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause as Fitz waited for more information. When none came, he asked, "What did you talk about?"

"I can't tell you, Dad - client confidentiality. But we did have a really great time."

"Did I tell you, you're a smartass?"

"Yeah, and guess where I get that from?"

Fitz chuckled, holding back the urge to hug Jerry again. "So you're okay about me and Aunt Liv?"

"Yeah!" His son scoffed, making a face.

Grinning, Fitz bumped his shoulder against Jerry's. When Jerry bumped back, Fitz gave into the impulse to wrap him in a tight hug.

"Dad, I can't_ breathe_!"

"It's okay, the secret service knows CPR."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, dear peoples who read the last chapter, I should have been clearer – the ****_elephant _****that they all referred to was Olivia's ****_race_**** - or ****_cultural identity_**** as I call it (because, seriously, aren't we all part of the human race/species/mitochondrial goo). ****_However,_**** since I haven't started my own ****_thought-policing_****_revolution _****yet**** - we'll go with 'race' for its familiarity.**

**I put '****_elephants_****' (plural) in the chapter title because conveniently the Republican Party logo is also an elephant. Hint...hint...hint (as a tutor of mine once said).**

**And I did intend to put an Olitz scene, but then decided (quite ruthlessly) that it didn't fit in with the other stuff. But see, I did try to make up for it by having an Olitz opener in this chapter :) :) :) **

**And good point - yes, Fitz does know about Defiance, but at this point, I'm thinking that he's forgotten what that means for his presidency, because his focus is on getting a divorce...**

**Aaand let me ASSURE you that the house Fitz built for Liv in Vermont will not get blown up. Nope, not ever, not happening in this story, because that entire Olitz scene brought this story to life (i.e. I'm not mad enough to destroy my muse), so read easy on that front... :)**


	10. Race Relations I

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And all I have to say about that is #UGGGH!**

* * *

"Sir, are you on your way to the White House?"

"No, we're still in Andover."

"Right."

"What's the problem, Cy?"

"Um.. nothing too serious... I'll handle it."

"What is it?"

"Nothing...nothing."

"Did Sally share her thoughts on abortion with the doctors?"

"No. it's nothing..." Cyrus sighed. "I'll handle it."

* * *

"Olivia, we have problem."

"Has the Thanksgiving turkey run amok?"

"No, we have a bunch of not-wise men; bearing gifts not of gold, frankincense or myrrh."

"Cyrus, what are you talking about?"

"Turn on the News, any channel."

"The KKK?"

"Yes, at least 3000 of these creatures in their white hoods, walking down Pennsylvania Avenue, making a general nuisance of themselves."

"From what I can see they are being followed by the Police, media and members of the public. This has the potential to escalate from nuisance to nightmare."

"I know."

"I'll be right over."

"That's what I was hoping you'd say. Oh and Liv, I'm sending a security detail to collect you. Please wait for them."

* * *

"We have reports that there are nutjobs from at least 50 separate groups down there,"

Cyrus murmured, standing beside Olivia, watching the live newscast of the crowd gathered outside the White House gates. From behind Olivia, other voices spoke up.

"And they are packing."

"And carrying wooden crosses and those offensive signs. "

"Attracting every damn hack, talking head and gasbag pundit in the tri-state area."

"Not to mention rabid protesters from the general public."

"The police are getting really nervous."

"We should have them arrested, before it turns into a bloodbath."

"And give them exactly what they want – evidence of police brutality against peaceful protesters; a reason for their supporters to sympathise about a violation of their civil liberties?" Olivia turned to face the National Security Officer, the White House Legal Counsel, the White House Press Secretary, and senior personnel from the Emergency Response Team and Secret Service, as well as the Mayor of Washington DC and its Chief of Police. "We should talk to them."

"Are you insane? This is not the same as those two lunatics, Stewart and Colbert, organising a spoof march about restoring sanity or fear or some such nonsense. This is the Klan, they kill people, burn down buildings and teach their kids to hate."

"Right now they are just standing outside the White House gates, waiting."

"Yes, waiting to kill people and burn down buildings."

"They are also blocking access to a Federally Restricted Building, violating both state and federal laws.

"We can arrest them, fingerprint them, put them in the system."

"Before we do all that, let's hear what they have to say."

"Jeez, Olivia! Didn't you just hear what we said?!"

"Let me rephrase," Olivia smiled. "_I_ should go talk to them. It's obvious they're here to see me and it would be rude if I didn't go and say hello."

"Olivia!"

"Cyrus, please let's try it my way. If it doesn't work, we'll go with one of the other alternatives. But first, there are a few things that I need done..."

* * *

Olivia walked out of the White House flanked by a group of Marines. The crowd noise steadily subsided as she walked along one half of the semi-circular drive, until there was almost absolute silence by the time she reached one of the gates. The only sounds that could still be heard came from the restless horses of the DC mounted Police and cameras of the multitude of photojournalists.

Asking the Marines to stand back, Olivia walked out of the White House gate and stood before the phalanx of hooded Klansmen. She took a moment to study the insignias and motifs of the different realms, before speaking,

"Gentlemen I understand you've come here today to talk about the President's Race Relations policy."

There was no response from the standing men.

"It's good of you to travel all this way to give us a chance to have this dialogue with you. We are organising seating and refreshments for you on the Ellipse. The only condition of entry to the grounds, is that your weapons – all your weapons – will have to be left with the guards at the gate. They will, of course, be returned to you when you leave."

"Who the fuck are you?" A voice finally called out.

A buzz rippled through the watching bystanders. Ignoring that and her sweaty palms, Olivia said calmly, "I am the woman who is speaking to your right now."

"Are you the bitch, the President is leaving his wife for? The nigger he's trying to get into the White House?"

This time Olivia almost felt the readying of weapons by the security personnel, so she said with quiet firmness, "All those questions, gentlemen, and any others you have, will be answered at the appropriate time. That is if you choose to have that conversation.

"Or you can choose to stand out here, in violation of HR 347. This is a federal offence. If you are successfully prosecuted, you can be sent to jail for a year, or fined a $100,000, provided you don't use your weapons. If you do use your weapons, the fine goes up to $250,000 and the jail term goes up to ten years."

Olivia paused, then letting her gaze touch on every single white hood in the front row, she said clearly, "So those are your choices...For anyone who chooses to talk to us, we'll be ready and we will be waiting."

* * *

Fitz studied the three children sitting across from him, amused at the way their attention was glued to the electronic tablets in their hands. He was just about to interrupt and involve them in an actual conversation, when Jerry said on an anxious note, "Uh, Dad... Aunt Liv is on the News."

Jerry quickly handed his tablet over to Fitz, who glanced down with a curious frown, which instantly changed to stark, icy incomprehension. He stared in disbelief at the sight of Olivia standing in front of a crowd of hooded Klansmen. The banner headline under the photograph, read 'Breaking News: War of Words – _Lone Black Woman confronts White Supremacists at the White House today_..."

A searing bolt of absolute rage got his brain functioning again and Fitz yanked his phone out of his jacket and called the White House. When the phone was answered on the first ring, he barely waited for a greeting before yelling, "Cyrus, what the fuck are you doing letting Olivia go out there by herself. Get Liv Out of There Now! NOW!"

"Sir, I tried telling her—"

"Don't talk, just do it! Get the agents to carry her in if they have to! Do it NOW!"

"Sir, look –!"

"No! You look, Cyrus! If even a _hair _is harmed on her head, I swear I WILL KILL YOU WITH MY BARE HANDS!"

Fitz flung the phone away and glared into space for a second, before it began to dawn on him that there were three faces staring at him intently. Sighing he took a deep breath, then said gruffly, "Sorry, that was just a figure of speech. I'm not going to kill Cy."

"Sure, Dad," Jerry smirked. "Want me to ask the guys out front if they can drive any faster?"

Relieved, Fitz nodded with a small smile of thanks, then searched for more news updates.

In the background, Peter continued to stare at Fitz warily until Karen explained, "Dad's crazy about Aunt Liv. When you meet her you'll know why."

Fitz would have smiled but he was already on the phone making another call.

* * *

** A/N: Oops, I've misspelt Gerry's name! BTW, I love how subtle you are about pointing out my mistakes, but you don't have to be; I'm prepared (I have ****_chocolate_****). Having said that, I'm sorry, but ****_Gerry _****will have to live as ****_Jerry_**** in this story in one of those sad ****_Jif/Gif_**** moments.**

**Also – in my usual ****_thorough _****research (****_Google search: Can you protest in front of the White House_****), I came across ****_HR 347_**** which from my limited understanding became law thus: ****_Occupy Wall Street Secret Service Headache tighter controls on protests_****. (But feel free to Google your own conclusions).**

**Anyway as I didn't know exactly where the restricted zones are, I was going to exercise my right to amnesia of inconvenient truths (and current Scandal plots) by pretending that no such law exists, but it was more fun to use it (with my sue-able inaccuracies)**

**And I'm really sorry about the late update. I had a lot of reading to do for this chapter: ****_The White House; KKK; Hate Crimes; Secret Service; can they arrest me for suspicious web search activity; will they let me write in prison; etc..._**

**On a more serious note, this chapter was inspired by the actions of two individuals: The first none other than ****_Ms Kerry Washington_****. I remember seeing one of her interviews, where she said she'd busted a sports team for drinking while an RA at GWU. And the first thing she did was get them to sit down so she didn't feel intimidated by their size/height. (Sorry, I can't find the original source to post a link).**

**The other inspiration is ****_Mr Daryl Davis_**** Read about him here: /2013/11/kkk-member-walks-up-to-black-musician-in-bar-but-its-not-a-joke-and-what-happens-next-will-astound-you/**

**Amazing individuals doing amazing things - fiction doesn't compare to real life.**

**And I just wanted to mention my sadness at the passing of one my real life heroes – ****_ Mr Nelson Mandela_****. I was one of millions worldwide, who watched ('live' on TV) when Mr Mandela was freed from prison, and then again when he was sworn in as President of South Africa. ..I am truly grateful he walked this earth in my lifetime.**


	11. Race Relations II

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. So here's a message for them: Be Kind to Your Characters (OLITZ) – brought to you by the Humane Society of Gladiators**

* * *

There were a few bumps on the way to the Ellipse.

For a start, the KKK refused to hand over their weapons as it violated their Second Amendment rights under the Constitution.

A handful of very large, very irate white hooded men broke ranks to confront Olivia, waiting by the gate:

"You are not taking our guns!"

"That's a violation of our civil rights!"

"We have permits!"

Seeing gun barrels being raised by the waiting civilian forces, and fearing that a _Gunfight at the OK Corral_ would break out right before her eyes, Olivia shouted, "Step back, gentlemen, step back!"

"Listen, bitch! We are Imperial Wizards! You don't talk to us that way!" One of the men got right in her face.

"I don't care if you are the Wizards of Oz, but a lot of people will get hurt unless you step back!" She hissed at him.

The man paused, then straightened, and looked around at all the police and sniper weapons trained on him and the other Klansmen. He stepped back.

"Now listen, the rest of you!" Olivia stepped forward and faced the mass of white hoods with her legs akimbo and her hands on hips.

"It is an _offence_ to carry a _concealed weapon_ in the District of Columbia even if you have a carry permit _from another state_! it is _illegal _to have a handgun on your person, concealed or otherwise, _unless_ you are in your own home or place of business - which this is not for any of you!

"Now, you can hand over your weapons _voluntarily_ or they _will be_ taken from you, and you _will_ face a fine of $1000 or a jail term of a year or both!"

"But this is the_ fucking_ United States."

"That's right," Olivia almost smiled. "This is the United States! And in this country, you can set your own rules in your own home. Isn't that right? If you want to have a beer for breakfast – go ahead no one will stop you! You want to watch the Super Bowl naked on your couch – hey, it's a free country!"

A smattering of laughter broke out among the watching crowd of bystanders, and even the police lowered their weapons, but there was only silence from the Klansmen.

Tough crowd, Olivia thought to herself; feeling the tight knot in her stomach remain, she continued, "And in your home, you expect visitors to respect the house rules. Well, gentlemen, _you_ are now in "the home" of the Federal Government; Congress makes the rules for the District of Columbia. And in _this_ _house_, they say 'no guns' on the street. So show some respect for the _house rules_ and hand over your weapons."

There was a shuffle of movement, and general muttering among the Klansmen, then one of them yelled out, "Hey, if we have to hand over our weapons, how come the police get to keep theirs?"

"House rules."

"That's fucking unfair."

"Hand the weapons over, gentleman, or the police will conduct a search and seizure operation and it won't be pretty. For all of you." Her glance swept of the hooded men.

There was another wave of mutterings, then the man who had got in Olivia's face, stepped forward again. "We accept the fucking house rules."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Olivia said, before nodding to the Marines who stepped forward and took over the exercise of collecting the illegal weapons.

* * *

It took more than an hour for the motley parade of Marines, Klansmen, Police, media and public to follow Olivia to The Ellipse.

Seating had been arranged, microphones and speakers organised, along with a long table of soft drinks and snacks. It could almost have been mistaken for a campaign stop on the Presidential campaign trail. Only it wasn't.

The Klansmen took their seats, and the Police circled them, while the media and public waited on the perimeter beyond, filling up the green space as if this was an open-air concert.

Ignoring the tension in the air, Olivia took a microphone as the Marines stood at ease in a line behind her.

"Gentlemen, there are a couple of microphones being passed around. I would appreciate if you could stand up and ask the question, so I know where to direct my answers."

One of the men immediately stood up and said, "Who the fuck are you?"

"My name is Olivia Pope. I am the President's campaign adviser."

There were shouts from the perimeter, which made the Klansmen turn. Then the guy with the microphone said, "No, you fucking cannot ask a question. I'll ask the question." He turned to face Olivia again. "Is the President running for re-election?"

"I'll let the President answer that question."

A person next to the man stood up, grabbing the mike, "You've had two fucking questions, man, and we don't take questions from the audience. Now it's my turn – when do we get to talk to the President about his nigger-fucking policy?"

Conscious that lessening tension had instantly heightened, Olivia said pleasantly, "I can tell you as a fact that the Grant Administration, in consultation with the legislators, has never asked Congress to pass such a law."

There was a ripple of laughter from the spectators.

"Listen, bitch, we don't want a nigger in the White House!"

"My name is Olivia Pope, you can call me Olivia, I don't mind."

Relieved to hear more snickers of laughter from the crowd, Olivia added, "Now to answer your question, African Americans helped build the White House and we have worked in it as a people since the 1800s. And from that time on we've held positions from servants to the Executive Branch of government.

"I too have worked in the White House, as a Communications Director for President Grant, and my office was in the West Wing. So when you say, you don't want African Americans in the White House. I'm sorry, but you are too late with your request."

This time the laughter was more wide-spread from their audience, drowning out the mutterings from the speaker who sat down, allowing another man to stand up and ask a question.

"Is the President leaving his wife for his nigger whore?"

The crowd instantly fell silent.

Olivia waited, counting slowly to five, then she smiled. "I will not talk about the President's personal life. That is his business, just as who you may, or may not, choose to sleep with is entirely your business..."

* * *

Olivia felt a change in the air, and watched faces shift towards the side. Turning in the same direction, she felt a rush of joy, relief, exasperation and nervousness to see Fitz running towards her. Then seeing the fear and concern on his face, she stopped thinking and gave into pure feeling as she hurried forward to meet him half way.

"Are you okay?" Fitz asking even before he'd caught her in his arms.

"I'm fine." She let him gather her close, then realising the mike was still on, she switched the sound off as Fitz breathed a sigh of relief against her temple.

"I'm so angry with you, Livvie," he muttered, crushing her close, "You could have been hurt. Seriously hurt. But we'll talk about that later... What the fuck is going on over there?"

Easing back just enough to give him a reassuring smile, Olivia said, "We're having a conversation... about your Race Relations Policy."

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"Yes, that's what we're calling it... and I'm handling it, Fitz. Please, you have to trust me."

Fitz lifted a hand to touch her cheek. "I trust you. I trust you with my life, Liv. But this is not about trust. You know this isn't about that. We have to handle this together, because we're in this together."

Reaching for her hand, he turned towards the waiting crowd. But Olivia held back.

"Fitz, I told them I'm your campaign adviser."

"Livvie, I'm not going to pretend that's all you are to me."

"Fitz, I don't want the KKK to be the first to hear about us. And you're still married."

He tilted his head quizzically at her. "So what do you recommend? Because I'm not letting go of your hand."

Olivia scrunched her nose at him, but Fitz just stared back steadily.

She sighed. "Fine, we'll talk about how your private life is none of anyone's business, without actually confirming or denying our relationship."

"And I get to hold your hand."

"And you get to hold my hand."

* * *

As they approached, Olivia noted the cameras focused in their direction; the gawping public; the Marines standing to attention; and the way some Klansmen stood while others dragged them down, so they all remained seated by the time she and Fitz stood facing them.

Fitz muttered, "How have you been addressing them? '_Hello my worst nightmare_'?"

"_Gentlemen_," Olivia murmured, handing over the mike.

Fitz gave her a look, as he switched on the sound but didn't comment before turning to address the audience.

"Gentlemen, I understand that you have travelled great distances to speak to me in person about my race relations policy. Or policies, I should say, as my government has passed several great laws towards a more inclusive society. Education, for instance-"

"Cut the crap! We just want to know if you're fucking that bitch!"

Feeling Fitz tense beside, Olivia tightened her grip on his hand, and rubbed her thumb over his skin. Then she released a sigh, when Fitz said calmly, "Would the speaker like to stand up?"

After a pause, a hooded man stood up.

"And your name is, sir?"

"I don't have to give you my fucking name!"

"You don't have to, but since we're having a civil discussion, I wanted to observe the usual courtesies. Mr So-and-So, this is Ms Olivia Pope. You can refer to her as Ms Pope, Olivia or Ma'am. Those are your only options."

"This is a free country. I can call her whatever the hell I want. I know my first amendment rights. I know I have the right to free speech!"

"You don't have the freedom to be rude or offensive."

"Says fucking who?"

"My house; my rules," Olivia murmured.

"Oh I like that," Fitz whispered, before repeating loudly. "My house; my rules. Even though technically, we're in a park. But this is the President's Park and I am the President."

There was more laughter, as the man took his seat.

Another, grabbed his mike. "So it's true! You are leaving your wife for tha-her!"

"Again, I don't know your name but I won't let that stop me from answering your question. In case, you don't know what I do – let me make that clear: I am the President of the United States. That is my job. As part of _my job_, I am in charge of the armed forces; I work to protect and improve your legal rights; I meet with foreign leaders to negotiate peace deals and I do a lot of other things to maintain what I consider necessary for good government.

"Now you may not agree with my choices. In which case, you should exercise your right to vote. Cast your vote and let me know how well or badly I've done my job. And let me repeat that: how well or not I have done _my job_.

"What I don't need to know is your vote on my personal life; my marriage; or what you think of the woman I am in love with. That's not your business. It's mine."

Another man jumped up and yelled without waiting for a mike. "It _is_ my fucking business! If you get her into the White House, this country will become black America! There will be 100% Affirmative Action all the time. Hell, I'm the one who needs _affirmative action_, with all them niggers and illegals trying to take away my job! And my name is Jeff!"

Olivia tugged her hand free. "Go! This is your platform, Mr President. Show them who you are."

Fitz moved forward, then went right up to the man and extended a hand. "Thank you for introducing yourself, Jeff. My name is Fitzgerald Grant."

The other man hesitated, then reached out and shook Fitz's hand.

"Jeff, do you know why we are so rich as a nation today? It's because we didn't pay the majority of our workers a single cent for over 200 years. That's great for a boss, he saves a whole heap of money on labour costs, but not so good for the workers, right?"

There was a ripple of laughter, and several shouts of agreement. Fitz remained focused on Jeff.

"And if you think that attitude, of worker exploitation, has changed because slavery ended; think again. We still have people in jobs who can't feed their kids on what they earn.

"It's tough living in the great US of A, Jeff, not just for you but for a lot of people. We have more than 146 million people in this country classed as poor and low income. Think about that – that's nearly half our population.

"And if you think that's bad. Let me share another sad statistic – more than half our kids are living in need; and of them, nearly 24 million kids live in families classed as working poor. Let me repeat that - these are people with jobs, earning minimum wage, who can't feed their kids on what they get.

"And we're not just talking about white families; we're talking about Hispanic, African American, Asian, and Native American families. They represent all of us standing here today. They are mothers and fathers who work, who get paid an average of $10 an hour by their boss and they still need food stamps to feed their kids. That's right people with jobs, need welfare to feed their kids.

"So you see, we have a problem as a nation. And as a nation we need to work together to resolve it. We can't make this a black or white problem, because that won't help our kids, the kids of America, the kids who will continue to make this nation great.

"The kids of America need our help, Jeff, and we can only do that by working together."

An eruption of cheers and applause broke out in the listening crowd on the perimeter. All Jeff said to his neighbour was, "I told ya, the man's a fucking Democrat!"

"I like to think of myself as a progressive Republican, Jeff. A rare breed I know." Fitz grinned as laughter roared out, then when it had quietened again he said, "Well this has been surprisingly pleasant, but my official schedule awaits, and I must get back to my job. So this meeting is over, and thank you to everyone here who took time out to be with us today..."

* * *

"How did I go?"

Barely controlling an impulse to throw her arms around his neck and squeal with joy, Olivia managed a demure smile as she said huskily, "I could kiss you right now."

"Kiss me." He grinned, sliding an around her waist. "A big, wet, sloppy kiss with tongue."

Giggling, she stared at his mouth. "Mmm…I'll think about it. Since you did shake Jeff's hand."

"Hey, you were the one calling that crowd, 'gentlemen'."

"Dad, you were great!" Jerry turned up at their side, holding Karen's hand with Peter following close behind.

"Aunt Liv!" Karen released Jerry, to fling her arms around Olivia's waist.

"Baby K, is that you?! You've grown so much! I can't call you a baby anymore!"

"You can still call me 'Baby K', Aunt Liv. I like that name."

Standing with his arm still wrapped around Olivia, Fitz groused, "Didn't I tell you kids to wait in the car?"

"Dad, we did. But you were gone so long; we wanted to make sure Aunt Liv was okay. Aunt Liv!" Jerry teased, sandwiching Olivia from the other side, making her laugh.

"And who's this?" Olivia looked towards the boy hovering in the background.

"Oh, that's Peter. Hey, Pete, you can fit in here too, Aunt Liv won't mind."

"Yes, Pete, we'll make room."

They'd all shifted to include Peter in the group hug, when a voice clearly said, "Man, just look at that – they got a chink in the family too."

In an instant, Jerry was barrelling towards the speaker standing in a large group of hooded men.

"Hey, asshole! That is not a _chink_! That's my friend Peter!"

"Yeah, he wouldn't know the difference. Not when dad's fucking a nigger," said the man next to the first speaker, and with that Jerry was diving into the middle of the group head first, his fists swinging.

"Daddeee! Do something! They're hurting Jerry! Daddy, they're hurting Jerry!" karen started screaming as Olivia held on to her tightly.

And in that instant, all pandemonium broke loose.

* * *

**A/N: I truly adore all your comments and love 99.9% of it. The 0.01% belongs to a guest who really impressed with her story ideas, and I was enjoying the ride until the end - when she said that ****_'Shonda can't catch a break in the Tumblrverse'_****. **

**I'm sorry, she's not going to catch one from me either. I agree wholeheartedly with those Tumblrwriters who are deeply unhappy with her. **

**I used to be a serious TV addict. Now I can only watch one show: ****_Scandal_****. And I watch that show for one thing: ****_OLITZ_****. I think Kerry Washington and Tony Goldwyn are absolutely magical together. I have never seen anything like what they have. Better yet, they make every effort to be articulate, inspiring, gracious role models in real life - especially Kerry. **

**And Judy Smith - please, if she didn't actually exist, no one would have created her in fiction: a brilliant, articulate, successful African American woman who solves man- and woman-made personal disasters. Like there are so many of those on mainstream television that we can sit back and enjoy watching Shonda fuck around with this lead role.**

**In my opinion, Shonda was given gold as a foundation for Scandal and what do we get as an audience? Olivia being Not-Great due to PTSD (Parental Terrorist+Spy Dross), Fitz becoming a Mellie Avatar; an introduction to dentistry before sex; death is always better than divorce; and a Tea Party plotline against Gay Marriage. #WhatIsThisShit **

**Kerry understands her responsibilities as a role model; does Shonda? Through OLITZ (yes, OLITZ!) she has a platform to reach millions of viewers around the world. She reached me all the way over here in Australia (BTW, I'm a migrant-citizen).**

**Does she not understand why Barak Obama gets mobbed like a popstar whenever he travels OUTSIDE the US; or why the WORLD mourns Nelson Mandela? These are two individuals who achieved THE IMPOSSIBLE with such style and grace that they give us hope, we too can achieve our more modest dreams in far less trying circumstances. #Shonda-LetOliviaBeGreat **

**If there are Scandal Writers trolling fan fiction for ideas, I can recommend two of my favourite stories from childhood: ****_The Goose that Laid the Golden Egg_**** and ****_The Emperor's New Clothes_****. Please read for the sake of us Gladiators. #RantOver.**

**On a more positive note : Purple Pineapple is back! And Missschievous met Mr Tony Goldwyn! Double Yaaaaayyyyy!**

**And I got the stats on poverty from: Huffington Post - 2011/12/15/census-shows-1-in-2-peopl_1_n_ **


	12. Father & Son

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I want the Gladiators to stage a coup: #OLITZ #OLITZ #OLITZ #oi!oi!oi!**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Now that Dad's finished yelling at me, are you here to play good cop?" Jerry gave a wry grin, as Olivia entered his room.

"Yep." She nodded, "And to bring you hot chocolate with home-made marshmallows and a piece of your favourite caramel pecan pie, hot from the oven."

"Wow, you really are great at the good cop stuff," Jerry's grin widened as he carefully took the tray from her. "Can you get dad to commute my sentence too – he kinda grounded me for life."

Olivia let her gaze wander over his cut lip, the stitches he needed on his brow and his bandaged hand. She took a deep calming breath before meeting the clear blue of his eyes, so like his father's, which on Jerry's face contrasted vividly with the greenish, purple of his bruises. "The pie and hot chocolate are from the White House chef and his staff – they saw what happened on the news. As for the grounding, Jer, I agree with your dad."

"Aunt Liv, those assholes insulted you!"

"Jerry, you can't go around punching people who insult me, that's going to end up being very painful for you."

"Okay, next time I'll shoot him."

"Jerry, I'm not joking about this. You could have been seriously hurt today, if your dad, those Marine guards and Secret Service agents hadn't got in there and dragged you out."

"Yeah, but I managed to get a few good kicks in while they were doing that."

"You could also have got a lot of other people hurt. The only reason the police didn't shoot was because no one could get a clear shot."

Jerry shook his head in disbelief. "Man, those guys really need to start playing video games."

Wiping even the semblance of a smile from her face, Olivia added, "And you traumatised Karen."

For the first time, Jerry looked ashamed. "I'm sorry about that. I wanted to let her now I was okay but Dad won't let me see her."

"They had to sedate her, Jerry. She's asleep now, cuddling that purple dragon you gave her on her third birthday."

Jerry blinked and looked away. "You are good, Aunt Liv. I get it. I'm sorry." He pushed the tray away.

After placing the tray on the nightstand, Olivia sat closer and lifted a hand to his chin, turning him to face her. "You know that you're an amazing kid."

"So you'll get dad to let me out of my room before Christmas?"

Olivia snuffled a laugh, dropping her hand on his shoulder. "You are such a smart ass."

"That's what dad tells me. Have the two of you been talking?"

This time Olivia felt her cheeks heat and she shifted back, but paused when Jerry caught her hand in a bandaged paw.

"Aunt Liv, you know that I'm okay with...you and Dad?"

"You don't mind about...your Mom?"

Jerry shrugged. "It's not like we're a full-time family or anything. I only see her during the holidays. I guess I can still do that. Besides I have a lot more fun hanging out with you."

"Jerry."

"Yeah, okay, that will not include punching or kicking really bad guys, even if they really deserve it. Yep, got that."

"Good, Mr Smarty Pants. Now, do you want to finish your hot chocolate while it's still hot?"

When he nodded, she handed him the mug off the tray.

"How's Pete?"

"He's good. He had dinner with me and your dad, talked about his parents, about school and about you."

"He didn't stop by and say goodnight before he went to his room. I wanted to borrow his tablet, because Dad took everything of mine – including my phone."

"Peter hasn't gone to bed yet."

"Where is he?"

"He's…um…keeping himself entertained… watching a movie."

"Wait! He's not watching _The Wolverine_ in 3D in the Family Theatre? Aunt Liv! I wanted to watch that!"

"I know, Jer, Peter told us."

"So, Dad let's him watch by himself? Man, Dad can be really mean when he gets mad."

"He gets mad because he loves you and he got scared thinking of what could have happened to you." Then feeling her heart melt at the sight of Jerry's sulky pout which reminded her so much of Fitz, Olivia added softly, "Jerry, you can still watch the movie when your dad stops being mad, and I'll make sure you even get a bucket of popcorn, with loads of butter and salt, because as you know I'm a real expert on that kind of thing."

Seeing the pout slide into lop-sided grin, probably due to the cut on his lip, Olivia reached out to brush the hair off Jerry's forehead, then patted his shoulder and stood up. "I should go. Your dad wants to talk to me."

"Uh-oh. Are you're in trouble too, Aunt Liv?"

"I am."

"Let me know if you need me to whoop Dad's ass if he gets really nasty."

She laughed. "Jerry!"

"Sorry, memory lapse. There'll be no whooping of anyone's ass, not even Dad's. I promise." Then he grinned at her.

"Behave, cheeky boy, or I'll get Huck to come and have a little chat to you."

"Wow, really? I'd love that!"

Olivia laughed. "Okay, not the reaction I wanted, so I'm going now." Leaning down, she dropped a quick kiss on his head. "Goodnight, Jer."

She had almost reached the door, when he called out to her, "Aunt Liv?"

"Oh!" Olivia gasped a laugh when she was caught up in a fierce hug.

"I'm glad you're going to be my new Mom," Jerry whispered, before releasing her abruptly, opening the door, then gently but urgently pushing her out.

* * *

"Hey," Fitz straightened up from the opposite wall. "What happened? Did Jerry say something? What did he say?" He stepped closer amd examined her face.

"He said he's glad I'm going to be his new mom." Liv choked, before burying her face in his chest and bursting into tears.

With a soft groan, Fitz wrapped her in his arms. "Livvie…" he breathed in her ear, rocking her gently on her feet. "Sweetheart…"

When her sobs didn't abate, Olivia felt him lift her off her feet and into his arms.

"It's going to be okay, everything is going to be fine," he crooned comfortingly as she curled her arms around his neck and continued to sob into his neck.

By the time they reached their bedroom, Olivia had cried herself out.

"Is my face a mess?" she whispered as Fitz sat her on the bed.

"No, it's beautiful," he assured, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs.

"My face feels puffy. That's not beautiful."

"You're beautiful... stunning... gorgeous..." He kissed her lips softly with every compliment. "And a bit puffy," he added, prompting a weak giggle from her.

"Wait here," he said gently, getting to his feet. "I'm going to get a wash cloth."

Watching his lithe stride, Olivia felt like crying all over again and she didn't know why because what she really felt in that moment was happiness.

When he returned with a warm hand towel and began wiping her face, she muttered, ""I'm okay... I just cried because I didn't want you to yell at me."

"I wasn't going to yell at you."

"Yes you were."

"Yes, I was." Fitz admitted ruefully. "I kind of got into the zone after yelling at Jerry."

Olivia gave a husky giggle. Then let him undress her; put her in one his old Navy T-shirts that she loved wearing before he tucked her in bed.

She watched as he took less care in pulling off his own clothes, then gave a deep sigh of contentment when he slid under the covers and gently gathered her close as if she was fragile and precious.

"I love you." He kissed her nose.

"I love you too," she murmured, kissing his chin. "You can yell at me now. I'm okay."

"I don't want to do that anymore." He feathered a kiss over her lips, then drew back to gaze into her eyes as he said huskily. "We're going to be a family, Livvie."

"I know." She felt a tear escape. "I never believed this could happen."

He sighed softly, reaching over to kiss the wetness from her cheek. "I filed for divorce."

Her tears immediately dried up. "What? When?"

"I had the papers drawn up the day after our night in Vermont. This morning, I rang and told my lawyers to file the petition after I spoke to Jerry and Karen."

He paused, eying her warily, then looked confused when she beamed with all the joy she felt in her heart and slid her arms around his waist.

"Liv...?"

"Yes..."

"You're not going to tell me the timing is off?"

"Our timing is always off."

His smile began to match hers, and his voice turned husky as he whispered, "Or tell me that I'll be ruining my chances for a second term…?"

"Mmm…let me think… where would divorce be on the list of everything that happened today: You basically accused your biggest donors of paying their staff slave wages; you outed yourself as a liberal progressive, which means the Republicans will disown you and you'll have to run on the Democratic ticket at the next election; and you've got me as your girlfriend, which I think is just a lovely red cherry on a big beautiful cake of all your problems. And I just know that your Republican pals are right now printing Thanksgiving cards with our faces on it, to send to all their constituents."

Fitz rubbed noses with her. "You are so cute when you're being sarcastic."

"And you are so very sexy when you stand up there in front of everyone and show them how brilliant, and kind, and strong, and very Presidential you are," Olivia returned softly, hugging him even closer as a blush crept up his face.

"Fitz…"

"You owe me a kiss. A big, wet, sloppy kiss… with tongue…" he said gruffly.

Giggling, Olivia gave him a quick peck on the lips, then burst out laughing when he rolled them both over so he could cup her face in his hands and get the kiss he wanted.

* * *

**A/N: I realise that some of you are upset that I chose to include a hate group in this story. I'm sorry about that. I chose the KKK because I needed an instantly recognisable symbol of racist hate. **

**It's true – I could have chosen a more subtle form of institutionalised racism to reflect the realities of Olivia's identity in the OLITZ dynamic. **

**However, after reading about ****_Daryl Davis_**** in the ****_Las Vegas Guardian Express_****, I understood that this incredible man was changing the world, one Klan member at a time and I wanted to acknowledge his work in this story as I felt it would fit with what I thought Olivia might do. If you care to read about Daryl Davis and his amazing work, get his book ****_Klan-Destine Relationships_**

**In the meantime, I'll share a couple of excerpts from the ****_LV Guardian Express_**** article that resonated with me the most: **

**_ A lot of people have anti-racist groups. They get together and meet and have a diverse group and all they do and sit around and talk about how bad discrimination is. Then someone says 'there's a Klan group across town. Why don't we invite them to come and talk to us?' and the other person says 'Oh no! We don't want that guy here!' Well, you're doing the exact same thing they are. _****_What's the purpose of meeting with each other when we already agree? Find someone who disagrees and invite them to your table_****_._**

******_Invite your enemy to talk_****_. Give them a platform to talk because then they will reciprocate. Invite your enemies to sit down and join you. You never know; some small thing you say might give them food for thought, and you will learn from them. Establish dialogue_****_. It's when the talking stops that the ground becomes fertile for fighting._**

**From ****_KKK Member Walks up to Black Musician in Bar-but It's Not a Joke, and What Happens Next Will Astound You_****, by Rebecca Savastio on November 20, 2013. **


	13. Cheerleaders

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC own these characters, but I'm a staunch OLITZ writer**

* * *

_"He shook a Klansman hand, and they turn round and beat down on his son. That's cold. That's just cold."_

_"The President extends his hand in a gesture of reconciliation to one of the most reviled hate groups in America, and his son gets beaten up. It makes you wonder, doesn't it, are these people capable of civil discourse..."_

_"The Grant kid is only 14 years old, same age as my own kid. Hell, if some hooded crank punched my son in the face, I'd make sure he found himself on Death Row. Hell, I'd be on Death Row..."_

Olivia switched the TV off. "Your son is a hero, Fitz."

"He's still grounded," Fitz muttered, zipping up her dress.

* * *

Fitz was late getting to his morning briefing, and when he eventually arrived at the Oval Office he wasn't expecting to be greeted by applause from his advisors.

He smiled quizzically, "What's going on?"

"You did an amazing job yesterday, Mr President. We stand in awe of you." Cyrus made a bow down gesture, eliciting laughter. Then a cork popped and champagne flutes were passed around.

"If I had known there was going to be a celebration, I could have asked Liv to join us. She deserves to be here more than I do."

"Of course, sir, but it was the way you handled those nutjobs that has caught the world's attention. You and Jerry. How is the kid?" Without waiting for Fitz's response, Cyrus continued, "We've been inundated with cards and gifts for the boy all morning – flowers, stuffed toys, cakes, boxes of chocolate, various female undergarments with suggestive notes, a live pit bull puppy, gym vouchers for self-defence training—"

"Did you say someone sent him a puppy? Where is it?"

"Morris is looking after the little monster. Says he's happy to adopt as he could use the company, especially when he's on nightshift at the gate. That is if Jerry doesn't want the puppy."

"Let Morris have him. Jerry's grounded."

"We've also been getting calls and messages from overseas."

"Yes, I know. I had a few calls transferred to the residence this morning. I've assured the leaders of UK, India, China and Australia that my son is fine. I declined the Russian President's offer of ten bodyguards from his own specially-trained unit. I've told the King of Saudi Arabia that my son is too young to drive a Ferrari and I've told the Canadian Prime Minister, I'll get back to him about sending Jerry to recuperate in Manitoba."

"So you don't want it widely known that he's grounded?"

"No."

"You know, Jerry has generated a lot of goodwill around the world, sir. People are burning effigies of the Klan in Gaza instead of you. And the protestors in Okinawa have changed their signs from _Get Out_ to _Get Well_."

Cyrus paused in assessment, then stressed with a bit more force, "In case you've forgotten, it is_ rare_ for a _US President_, specially a US _Republican_ President to garner such _goodwill_. Not just internationally, but even at home.

"Why, just this morning, we got a call from a little old lady in Rhode Island who's voted for the Democrats for as long as she can remember. You know what she said, she said she wants to make a contribution to the _Grant re-election_ campaign. Imagine that - we've got a tiny speck of red in that staunchly blue state." Cyrus breathed a happy sigh. "Maybe you should let Jerry have the car."

"No."

* * *

The next order of business for Fitz, was dealing with the Mayor and Chief-of-Police of Washington DC.

"Mr President, I have to thank you for the way you handled the incident yesterday. It could have been a tragedy, an absolute tragedy, but we got through it just fine. No fatalities. Not a single one. I have to thank you, sir, for keeping a cool head; for seeing us through. I'll be making a statement to that effect at my press conference later today."

"Thank you, Mr Mayor, but the name you need to mention is Ms Olivia Pope. She laid the groundwork; diffused the powder-keg and made everyone take a walk to the park."

"Have you seen the pictures, Mr President? The aerial shots of them walking down 15th Street to the Ellipse? It's a powerful sight, gave me chills seeing the Klan following the Marines."

"Lead by Olivia Pope."

The Mayor smiled. "Of course, yes, Ms Pope. I'll be sure to mention her, sir."

"Thank you, be sure to make a special mention of the fact that she, an unarmed civilian, faced those bastards and got them to make a peaceful handover of their weapons."

"Yes, about that," The Chief-of-Police spoke up. "We've held on to the guns. We don't want to give them back. The Church has suggested we turn those weapons into gardening tools, and for the tools to be donated to community gardens, growing organic vegetables and fruit. They are happy to host the event, which will be open to the public, on Church grounds. And we're happy to help them as it will promote our standing on gun control in this district."

"I like that."

"The only problem with that is – the Klan wants to take legal action, file a class action, to recover their property. And we're talking about their legally registered property as only a third of the weapons collected had a valid permit or licence."

"That's not a problem, that's an opportunity. Maybe we can put the Klan and Gun Lobby on trial at the same time."

"Sir," Cyrus tugged at his collar, looking a bit pale. "Are you forgetting that we are the _Republican Party_; that gun lobbyists are our friends?

"_We_ don't mention the words '_gun control'_ in polite company, or even _think_ it in the rabid vicinity of the NRA. If we do try to take them on, Mr President, not even little old ladies in Rhode Island can save your re-election campaign."

"Cyrus, you know the Gun Lobby is already involved. They're probably underwriting the Klan legal fees because this gives them the chance to put the gun control regulations in the District of Columbia on trial."

There was a small silence as the others absorbed what Fitz had said.

"So what do you suggest, Mr President?"

"Let them go for the jugular. We'll be ready for them."

The police chief and the mayor exchanged a glance, then the police chief said rather diffidently, "Next on the agenda, is when are you going to press charges against the men who attacked your son?"

Fitz stood up and walked over to the bay windows over-looking the Rose Garden.

"Liv thinks we should let the court of public opinion hang those bastards."

"But sir, those men attacked your son in front of witnesses, a worldwide audience of witnesses."

"That's the problem – they can say they won't get a fair trial because of all the media attention, and I don't want to subject my son to the trauma of a trial if those bastards can get off on a technicality or walk away with a slap on the wrist."

"Can we explore the possibility of making this a hate crime, after all they did incite violence."

Fitz turned away from the window, with a considering look on his face. Then he gave a humourless smile. "I think you will need to clear your schedules for the next couple of hours." Directing his gaze at Cyrus, he added, "We need the Director of the FBI and US Attorney General in here. I need to know all the implications, before we go down that path..."

* * *

"Knock, knock."

"Come in!" Three voices chorused from Jerry's room.

Olivia opened the door to find the three children gathered around a laptop on the floor. She chuckled as Jerry grinned and Peter waved a hello, then held out her arms as Karen jumped up and came running towards her for a hug.

"I thought you weren't coming, Aunt Liv, it's nearly my bedtime."

"I had work, Baby K. I was extra busy today because Jerry has given me a lot of free publicity and the phone wouldn't stop ringing."

"Do I get a commission?" Jerry asked as Olivia sat next to him with Karen on her lap.

"Ten per cent; I'm putting that in your college fund."

"Aunt Liv! I could use that money now, to bribe my way out of here."

"I am not aiding and abetting your criminal activities."

"Aunt Liv," Karen laid her head back on Olivia's shoulder and whispered loudly, "Girls are sending Jerry naked pictures of themselves because he's famous."

"Hey, I told that was a secret!"

"You told me not to tell Daddy. You didn't say I couldn't tell Aunt Liv. You won't tell Daddy, will you, Aunt Liv?"

Seeing three anxious faces, Olivia sighed. "Okay, I won't tell your dad, but you know I can't keep hiding things from him. Fitz won't like it."

"Aunt Liv, is telling the truth something you have to do before you get married? Because Mom lies to Daddy all the time."

Jerry and Peter exchanged a look, then quickly turned their attention back to the computer screen.

Olivia tried distracting the little girl by buzzing a kiss on Karen's cheek, which made her giggle.

"Aunt Liv..."

"Kar, it's my turn now," Jerry interrupted, much to Olivia's relief. "Aunt Liv, Pete needs your help. His parents are worried about him and they want him to return home. He doesn't want to go."

"I told them I was safe, Ms Liv, but..." Peter shrugged.

"They need an adult to assure them. I'd ask Dad but he's still not talking to me."

Again three anxious faces turned to her and Olivia had to smile. "Okay, I won't promise anything, but I can certainly talk to your parents, Peter. Give me their number. I'll phone them tonight."

"Thank you, Ms Liv!" Peter grinned at her.

"Please call me 'Liv' or 'Olivia'."

"Or 'Aunt Liv'. Even the Klan knows you're part of the family now," Jerry said wryly.

"Okay, Aunt Liv," Peter said tentatively, but after seeing Olivia's grin he added with more confidence, "I've already found the perfect place to pay your fee. There's a Malaysian restaurant, not far from here."

"My fee?"

"Yes, Jerry said your usual fee is that the client has to take you out to dinner."

Olivia laughed. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"Yes, he does." Jerry contradicted. "We're going with you, and I've never had Malaysian food. _Authentic_ Malaysian food, as Ramen noodles with Malaysian flavouring that Pete's Mom sends him doesn't count."

"In that case, I would love to have dinner with you all."

Jerry bumped his shoulder against hers. "Thank you, Aunt Liv." Then he bumped her shoulder again, adding softly. "And I'm sorry for the way things turned out."

"What are you talking about?"

"The story of me punching one asshole is getting more hits on the Internet, than you facing that whole army of assholes by yourself."

She chuckled. "Jerry, that's not your fault. You know people like action heroes."

"That's not it, Aunt Liv, and you know it."

Olivia laid her cheek on Karen's hair and smiled at Jerry. "It doesn't matter, Jerry. What matters is that people are talking about it. And _you_ got them talking about what happened. That's a start."

* * *

**A/N: So I finally realised yesterday that the 'labels' I was posting my chapters under weren't actually saving as Chapter Names. Twelve chapters later, have finally fixed it... ! **

**Slow and steady wins the race (****_or not at all_****!)**

**BTW, I did read that there was an actual community event, turning guns into gardening tools, organised by the National Cathedral in Washington DC and Children's Defense Fund advertised as follows: **

_**"You're invited to join us on the Cathedral grounds after the forum as blacksmiths turn police confiscated guns into garden tools in a modern-day interpretation of the biblical passage about beating swords into plowshares. These illegal guns will be transformed into life-affirming garden tools that will be donated to community gardens to grow healthy food for families."**_

**That quote was lifted off a article published Oct 21, 2013, which seems like it's trying to be pro-guns but it just made me smile reading it as an anti-gun enthusiast ...**

**Read more: /2013/10/21/washington-d-c-do-police-continue-selective-enforcement-to-promote-gun-control/#ixzz2n4TFPiT1**


	14. Scorned Sisterhood

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters** **_Dear anyone who knows anyone at Scandal ABC: Please ask them to learn the difference between _**_'we're all flawed human beings'__** and **__'we're all psycho/sociopaths or idiot weaklings__**'. There's a reason I never watched **__Hannibal__** or **__Dexter__** or **__G W Bush press conferences__**, and why I became addicted to watching Olivia Pope, inspired by real-life Judy Smith, in love with Fitzgerald Grant. Thank you.**_

* * *

"_Hollis_!"

"Mellie, it sounds like you're having a hissy fit and steppin' in it. But I have to warn you, hun, I ain't had my morning cup of coffee yet. So things could get ugly mighty fast."

"Oh, they're ugly all right! Very, very ugly! You told me that the KKK would take care of things! That they would make Fitz see Olivia for the liability she is! You said we needed to focus on the _elephant in the room_ because '_it don't take a genius to spot a goat in a flock of sheep'_! Well, where are those geniuses now, Hollis? _Where are they_?!"

"Hell, that gal. She could sit on a fence and the damn birds would feed her. And it don't help that Olivia has more guts than you could hang on a fence. Plus, she's way smarter than your average whip."

"Hollis, I don't want a list of why you like that woman! I want to know how I can get rid of her! I want her gone from the White House! _Gone_! Do you hear me?!"

"Mellie, I'm pretty darn sure the billy goats in the Appalachian Mountains heard you. But yelling ain't going to make it happen."

"Calling in the KKK was supposed to make it happen!"

"Well... they were kinda a long shot; you know, them being crazy coots in white hoods and all. But it ain't all bad—"

"Hollis, will you stop thinking about your damn coffee and read the papers! I wanted to make Olivia's colour a problem for Fitz, instead we've gone and opened up this country's biggest can of worms! Everyone is talking about race now! Worse, anti-discrimination groups are stepping forward as the vanguard of our society! And the absolute worst is that we've got Fitz, that idiot, going after the Klan with both guns blazing! And he's taking on the NRA at the same time! Do you know how many people have stopped returning my calls because Fitz is going gangbusters with his idealistic pipe dreams?! Really, what is he thinking?"

"I'm thinking that he's seeing the same thing I am – GOP approval ratings skyrocketing like they're after Halley's Comet. They've never seen so much fan-girling from the Fourth Estate, not controlled by Murdoch. Hell, even Bruce Springsteen is the letting the Republicans use his songs in their advertising. I mean, we're talking about the GOP – the mad-hatters at a gotdamn tea-party! Now, they've got the Autumn of Love going on with the intelligentsia. It's enough to make Reagan lose his gotdamn mind if he weren't already dead."

"I don't want to hear about the GOP! I want to know how I can get Olivia Pope out of the White House because that damn woman is everywhere! _Everywhere_! And everyone is talking about her – the damn Mayor is talking about her, the police chief is talking about her, even some Asian restaurant in DC is talking about her! Do you know that she had the absolute gall to be seen having dinner with my kids, _my _kids. There are pictures of them – all of them happy and smiling; having Nasi Lem-whatever on the house with one of the owner's kids. She not only gets her grubby little hands on Fitz, now she's got my kids too. My kids! She's taking everyone away from me!"

"Mellie, have you even seen them kids since they got back?"

"Hollis, you know Fitz has made me _persona non grata_ at The White House."

"So what's to stop you from getting the kids over to stay at Blair House?"

"Oh, I couldn't bear that – Karen is so clingy, and Jerry… that boy is so sarcastic, I can't talk to him without wanting to throw something – anything – at him... But I did send a nice bouquet of striped carnations when he got beat up."

"Hell, woman, even them damn octopi show more motherly love than you do."

"Hollis, I have priorities – I am a wife first and foremost. And my position, that _pinnacle _of my _life's achievements_, is being _destroyed_ as we speak. Why, just this morning some twerp in a cheap suit hand delivered a _divorce_ petition! That's right – a _divorce petition_! Can you believe it – _my husband_ thinks he can get away with the _dissolution_ of our marriage right before _an election_! Well, I'm not signing an acknowledgment, not now, not ever!"

"Well, now, Mellie, why didn't you say that at the start! That you'd been served! 'Coz, darlin', I think it's time we pulled another 'gator out of your garters."

"What are you talking about?"

"You are the poor benighted wife, about to lose your old man to the other woman."

"Hollis, weren't you listening? What do you think I've been saying all this time?!"

"Hell, woman, you've been trying to stir your grits with all the colours of a rainbow, when all you have to do is reach out to your people."

"My people?"

"All them woman scorned; hundreds and thousands of cheated-on little biddies just waiting to throw their support behind you."

* * *

"Mrs Drake, it's so good of you to come." Mellie smiled, extending her hand in welcome to Nancy Drake, the widow of Pastor Drake, who had once been known as the Nation's Pastor.

"It is good of you to invite me, Mrs Grant. I must say I was pleasantly surprised."

"Oh, please call me 'Mellie', and I hope I can call you 'Nancy'." Mellie linked her arm through Nancy's. "And I'm sure you'll be the first to understand how busy one gets seeing to the day-to-day needs of an important man. Especially when that man, is the President and he's so busy himself, running the country. But I must be honest, I have been meaning to call you so many times, and it's just wonderful that we can finally meet in this lovely historic house." Mellie smiled, leading Nancy into the rear drawing room at Blair House, which opened out to the garden.

Once they were comfortably seated, Mellie continued brightly, "It's been so long since we've spoken – I do hope you have been keeping well?"

"Oh very well, I am studying for a Master of Divinity at Howard University. I'm hoping to follow in the footsteps—"

"—Of your husband? Another Pastor Drake! Oh, how lovely."

"I am following in the footsteps of Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie, the first female Bishop elected to the African Methodist Episcopal Church."

"Oh, of course, we women must stick together nurturing each other through the trials of life." Mellie straightened a pleat on her skirt. "…Have you kept in touch with your husband's...mistress?"

"Anna? We meet every week. We have have Sunday lunch together with the whole family, including Vincent. He is such a bright boy, with a gift for oration that would make his father proud. And he sings too." Nancy gave a little chuckle, which didn't even elicit a smile from Mellie.

"Oh. So you are fine with what happened? The whole...mistress...affair? After everything you did for him?"

"Mrs Grant- Mellie, I gave the best years of my life to that man; I wrote his sermons; I taught Sunday school; I organised youth activities and conducted the Church choir, I even cleaned the church and arranged the flowers—"

"Oh, my goodness, I feel...I feel like I'm hearing the echoes of my own life. All that self-sacrifice and—"

"It wasn't a sacrifice. I did all that for my own enjoyment, not because I wanted to hang on to that man like he was my last hope for living."

"Oh." Mellie blinked, then fidgeted with her pearls as an assistant brought in a tray and placed it on a side table. "Tea?"

"Thank you."

After tea had been poured and partly drunk, Mellie continued, "So, you don't _resent_ giving up the best years of your life, to a man who wanted to spend the best part of himself with another woman?"

"I was happy doing God's work, while my husband found happiness escaping the bounds of our marriage. Did I resent it? I would have to say 'yes' I did at the time. I will even admit that I found a degree of comfort when you reminded me that my position as his wife gave me the dignity and respect that Anna would be denied.

"But, you know, we all lost out. I could have married a man who made me happy – not just happy to be in his church but to be with him. You see, I married my husband because my parents could see the ambition in him. They could see he had a hunger to be somebody, and they wanted me to help him get there. Not because they wanted me to be a Pastor's wife, but because they knew it would need our shared drive and ambition to lift ourselves out of that neighbourhood."

Nancy paused, looking down at the gold wedding band she still wore on her ring finger, and exhaled a deep sigh. "Anna loved my husband in a way I never did, or ever could. And he loved her. I simply stood by my man because it was my duty, and duty can be a cold, sad word sometimes."

"But hasn't your husband…sinned…in the eyes of God?"

"I cannot presume to know God's mind in all His work."

"So you think, I should turn my back on my duty and responsibilities as a wife and mother, and let my husband be with his _mistress_?"

"Mellie, it is not my place to help you decide. That must be your choice and God's will. I have only shared with you my understanding of the complexities of my marriage. An understanding I reached after much prayer and church counselling. I was hoping that our shared experience could give you some comfort and guidance."

Placing her cup and saucer with a clatter on the table, Mellie gritted, "It does not _comfort_ or _guide_ me to know that Olivia Pope has her hooks in my husband! I want her to leave my husband alone! I want my husband back!"

"Then I would say that you have a formidable task. Not only have I seen that your husband is very much in love with Ms Pope but she has shown herself to be worthy of his love and respect. I, as well as many others in my church, was very impressed with the way Ms Pope handled one of the most feared and hated enemies of racial harmony in this country. Ms Pope showed us that she has the courage and conviction we need in our leaders to heal some very deep wounds..."

* * *

**A/N: Here's another misappropriation of a Scandal character, Nancy Drake, the widow of the Pastor who literally died on top of his mistress, Anna, in Scandal 2.02 episode ****_The Other Woman_****. **

**And apparently the plural of ****_octopus_**** is ****_octopuses_**** - but I couldn't hear Hollis saying that so I went with ****_octopi_****, and I really wanted to use an octopus reference because they are fantastic mothers. **

**Well, the Giant Pacific Octopus is - she lays 56,000 eggs; guards those eggs round-the-clock to the point that she doesn't even eat and then, with her last dying breath, she blows her babies out to sea to get a swimming start on their new lives. When I first saw these amazing creatures on a nature documentary, I just cried...and cried...and cried. So anyway, Mellie ****_certainly isn't_**** a Giant Pacific Octopus. **

**You can read more about the real motherly kind on .org in an article titled ****_The Hardest-Working Mom on the Planet_**** by Robert Krulwich published June 2, 2011.**

** blogs/krulwich/2011/06/02/136860918/the-hardest-working-mom-on-the-planet**

**Finally, thank youuuuuuuu, dear incredibly kind readers, for your encouragement.**

** I must admit that I used to be a mediocre news reporter 15 years ago (before I migrated to Oz). I then spent ten years trying to get several manuscripts accepted by Mills & Boon/Harlequin, but couldn't crack the code (hmm... wonder what her problem could be...possibly that she's crap at writing sex scenes...hmm...). I eventually gave up writing (and began questioning my very existence) after the umpteenth nicely worded rejection letter, printed on even nicer paper. **

**Then… I stumbled on as a reader when I needed to see myself through the Scandal breaks/episodes. Now I am ecstatic that Scandal ABC Writers **_**infuriated**_**me enough (and OLITZ **_**inspired**_** me even more) to start writing again because this is the most fun I've had ****_in fifteen years_****! (More platonic kisses to you all - xxxxxx!)**

**On a finally final note: Yes I read that bit about Missschievous saying Tony had given a 'sly grin' at the mention of an OLITZ baby… ****_I wish I may, I wish I might…_**


	15. Media Access

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters** #Meh

* * *

"Jerry, I need to see you."

"Why?"

"Jerry, don't be silly. I'm your mother."

"Okay, _Mother_, why do you want to see me?"

"Jerry, please, you're my son. It's natural for a mother to want to see her children."

There was a pause.

"Okay."

"So... you're coming over?"

"Yep."

"Oh, and Jerry?"

"What?"

"Does your phone have a camera?"

"Yes...why?"

"I'll tell you when you get here. Just remember to bring your phone."

* * *

Mellie had just decided that sitting with her legs crossed at the ankles and her arms folded in her lap was the best pose, when the door to the library at Blair House opened and Jerry walked in. He wasn't alone.

"Oh," Mellie stood up forgetting her pose. "You brought everyone including... the kid from the Asian Restaurant. Are you friends now?" She angled a puzzled glance.

Jerry rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom, we're _friends_. This is Peter, my friend from _school_. You'd know that if you'd ever bothered to visit."

"Oh...that's nice. You've brought a school friend. I thought you'd be coming here by yourself."

"You said you wanted to see your kids. So we all came. Including Peter, he's an honorary Grant now."

"Well, isn't that nice. Your father is turning into the Brad Pitt of presidents and turning the White House into a group home for foster kids."

"No, Mom, he's making it a _home_ for _his_ kids and their friends who want to stay over. We're his kids and yours, but you probably don't remember that, so let me refresh your memory. I'm Jerry, your eldest son. This is Karen, your only daughter." Jerry laid a reassuring hand on the shoulder of the little girl plastered against his side, then smiled at the toddler he carried in his arms. "And this little dude is Teddy, your youngest child. He's probably grown heaps since you last saw him six months ago."

"Jerry," Mellie maintained a smile, glancing at Peter. "Stop kidding around. I saw Teddy just last week."

"Praise and hallelujah," Jerry muttered as he sat on the couch with Teddy in his lap, and a silent Karen snuggled in the crook of his other arm. Peter sat down next to Karen, and they all faced Mellie.

"Did you have any trouble getting here?"

"No, the Secret Service guys knew the way."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Yes."

The silence lengthened as the kids looked at Mellie and she stared back. Then she said abruptly, "Did you bring the phone?"

"Yes."

There was another silence, which Mellie broke hurriedly. "I thought we could make a video. You know, of me giving a sort of 'Thanksgiving message' to everyone and you could load it onto that XYZtube thing-whatever."

"Youtube."

"That's the one!"

"A Thanksgiving message?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Jerry stood up, handing Teddy over to Peter before taking out his phone. "Let's do this."

"Great!" Mellie sat up. "Is my hair okay? Can you get all of me?"

"Do you want people to hear your message or focus on your shoes?"

"Right, of course," Mellie tried not to glower as she patted her hair. "So I'll begin, shall I?"

"If you could. Dad's expecting us back before dinnertime."

"Jerry, it's only 10AM. Okay, so here we go," Mellie took a deep breath, then smiled brightly and began. "People of America, I am your First Lady. I'm talking to you today to wish all of you a Happy Thanksgiving. A Thanksgiving you will be spending with your family and loved ones, while I –"

Mellie turned away slightly, bringing up a hand to delicately cover her mouth..

"Do you want us to stop?"

"NO! Keep going," Mellie rolled her hand frantically, swiftly facing forward. "While I will be spending Thanksgiving here on my own, away from all my loved ones, stripped of my standing as wife and mother, because a mistress has—"

"Mom! Okay, that's it. We're outta here."

"What? Wait! What did I say? Are you going to put on Zeetube?" Mellie asked as Jerry reached for Teddy, placing him on his hip before taking Karen's hand.

"No. And just so you know: I'm glad Aunt Liv is spending Thanksgiving with us."

"So am I." Karen said fiercely, glaring at her mother.

Jerry shot Mellie a similar look, before adding, "Come on, Pete, we need to leave before Mom decides to give you her Takeout order."

* * *

"Well?" Mellie snapped with her fingers tapping on her jacket sleeve, while her assistant put the phone down and gave a rueful grimace.

"This one hung up too, Ma'am. All the television stations think it's a prank. No one believes I'm calling from the Office of the First Lady."

"Fine, if they won't come to me, I'll have to go to them."

* * *

Mellie walked into the lobby of WGGT television studios with her secret service agents; their silent tread contrasting against the click of her heels on the marble floor. Stopping in front of the Reception Desk, she smiled charmingly. "I'd like to speak to the General Manager."

One of the men stared at Mellie, then at the agents standing behind her, then looked at Mellie again.

"I'm Melody Grant, the First Lady," she added helpfully.

The receptionist glanced at the security guard seated next to him, who shook his head and went back to staring at a security monitor. The receptionist reached for the desk phone.

"Hey, Luke can you send someone down here. There's a woman claiming to be the First Lady...No, I haven't told Ali to chuck her out. You need to send someone down here, okay? Remember, I took Didi to the Easter Egg Hunt at the White House? Yeah, well this broad looks like the First Lady who handed out the chocolate bunnies without touching the kids."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Mellie found herself seated before Delaney Alwick under the harsh glare of studio lights, with several cameras trained on them from different angles; being observed by what seemed like everyone in the building who had arrived to stand in the gloom surrounding the platform.

Mellie smiled.

"We'll be going live in a few seconds, Mrs Grant," Delaney murmured.

"I'm ready."

On the television screen in the background, they watched a news anchor announce, _'We interrupt normal programming tonight to bring you a breaking news report with our special features reporter Delaney Alwick. Delaney is at our Washington DC studios with the nation's First Lady, Melody Grant_."

Delaney smiled reassuringly at Mellie, "Mrs Grant, thank you for taking the time to be here with us, live, at WGGT studios in DC."

"It's my pleasure, Delaney. Oh, and please call me 'Mellie'."

"Thank you, Mellie. I understand you have special message you'd like to share with us in light of the upcoming holidays."

"Yes, I'd like to tell the People of America…" Mellie paused as the reporter made a subtle hand gesture to get her to face the camera correctly.

Once done, Mellie lifted her chin and continued with a bright smile, "I would like to remind the People of America that I am the First Lady, the_ wife_ of the President of the United States and the _mother _of his children."

"Mellie, is it true that you are no longer living with the President at the White House?"

"Yes, I have been moved out to Blair House, and my access to the White House has been restricted."

"And the President has initiated divorce proceedings?"

Mellie maintained her smile as tears gathered which she tried to blink away furiously. Giving up, she gasped; then quickly grabbed at a handful of tissues from the box that was extended to her.

"Ma'am, would you like a moment?"

"No, I'm fine, Delaney. It's just... it's so heart-breaking to me. You know after everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed to build a home for my husband; actually to build my husband from the ground up to what he is today. And now I'm left with a kick in the backside – 'out you go, Mellie'. That's basically it." She stared at the camera with quivering lips. "It's just so hard to deal with that after everything we've been through; everything we've weathered as a couple and as a family."

"Mellie, are there any specific examples you'd like to give of how much you've supported your husband and how much you have sacrificed to help him become the President of this nation?"

"Oh, Delaney, where should I start? It's such a long list. But there is one thing that does come vividly to mind. You know, being on the campaign trail was so exhausting. The schedule was just so…it was nothing like I had ever experienced before and well, I got so stressed that I suffered a tragic loss. I lost my baby."

Mellie lowered her head and partially covered her eyes with a hand.

"Mrs Grant… ma'am?"

"No. It's okay. I'm okay. I have to be strong for my children. All my children, including little baby Grant who never made it into this world. I have to tell his or her story too. To let you know that I lost my child while I was out there working hard as the wife of a Presidential candidate; being a wife, instead of a caring, careful mother. I… miscarried. " Mellie bit back a sob. "That was the most painful and soul-wrenching experience that I, as a woman and mother, have ever had."

She wiped away tears. "It was such a painful tragedy that I wanted to keep it private. But I was forced to share our loss with the world, because my husband's campaign adviser thought it would be good strategy. She wanted me to reveal my pain...So I did, with very great reluctance; I shared my story with the voting public, cause my husband needed votes from wives and mothers. Women, like me, who could relate to the joys of motherhood and the trauma of loss... And that's when I found out...when I first discovered..." Mellie grabbed more tissues.

"Ma'am?"

"When I found about his first indiscretion. Oh, I don't blame Fitz. He's a very powerful man and women are attracted to power – like bees to honey. And the other women rarely think of us poor wives when they go after our husbands; taking what doesn't belong to them. In their selfish pursuit, they don't spare a thought for those of us who just carry on, chin up, back straight, caring for our husband's needs, our children's needs, doing our duty because that is what is expected of us."

"You said that was the President's _first _indiscretion?"

"Oh, yes, there have been so many others. Why, only a few months ago we had that fiasco with his communications aide, Janine Locke." Mellie paused to delicately wipe the corners of her eyes. "I mean, this just breaks my heart to even say it, but I have to say it, so all of you understand how a loyal wife suffers when infidelity destroys a marriage."

She took a deep breath, and placed her palm on her stomach. "And I was a loyal wife to my husband. I was there at my husband's side when he was shot, and he spent days, weeks, months in a coma. I kept a vigil as his wife; trusting - no, praying - that he would make it through when everyone else had given up on him. I sat there holding his hand in one of mine while placing my other hand on my pregnant belly over America's baby, our child Teddy, hoping that Fitz would feel the connection; the link of love between me, him and the son we had created together. And I strongly believe that it did help bring my husband back to us. I mean everyone said how miraculous it was that my husband hadn't suffered any permanent brain damage or any of the other expected complications. He woke up as if he'd just been asleep, and I believed it was the power of family, the power of our love that brought him back, but..."

"But...?"

"But when he first opened his eyes, the first person he wanted to speak to, the first name he uttered wasn't mine or the children's."

"Then whose was it?"

"It was the name of the woman who has always been the biggest threat to my marriage. The woman who worked for us; the woman who pretended to be my friend; the woman who has now taken my place at the White House."

"Does she have a name, Mrs Grant?"

"Yes, it was Olivia Pope. The president's whore."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, that word again. There's a reason… you'll have to read the next chapter to see if it is good enough to excuse this chapter.**

**BTW, WGGT, is a corruption of WTTG, the Fox News station which is based in Washington DC (ABC apparently transmits out of Virginia according to Wikipedia). I have no idea what the Fox building looks like inside, so I misnamed everyone and everything because I'm not a fan of FOX or Murdoch, but I figured it was their style to jump on bullsh*t.**

**Also in doing research on guest characters I happen to read Mellie's bio on .com, and it made me laugh:**

**1) At how many mistakes I'd made with Mellie backstory (e.g: her parents are supposed to be from North Carolina, not Virginia as I wrote)**

** 2) But no matter, Mellie's meant to be misunderstood one way or another – Melody/Millicent; Yale/Harvard; deeply loves her children/'hates babies and other peoples children and she's an 'extremely loyal partner for disputable reasons (how about 'deplorable' reasons and she's 'loyal' to her position, not to Fitz as a 'partner'). You can enjoy more at wiki/Mellie_Grant**

**Thank you sooooooo much for your comments. I still have my fingers crossed hoping that I don't stuff up. And I'd like to assure you that I lead a very boring life, but I have been lucky enough to meet many interesting people in the most unlikely places.**

**I once sat next to a man at the airport who told me his cat picked his clothes for a job interview that morning. He wanted to be an airline pilot and the cat had sat on top of the pants, shirt, tie, socks etc to be worn. (I don't know if he got the job)**

**But see, I wish my cat would do something useful like that instead of sitting on my keyboard when I'm trying to type. (****_Break in writing: Cat, laptop and I had to get off bed, because Dog needed space – the exact spot we'd been occupying – to jump up and stretch out. I am now writing balanced on a fitball and Cat miffed to be sitting on floor – obvious maladjustment in pecking order_****). Note to self: Must use fitball for exercise, not just for seating...**


	16. Rallying the Troops

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. Y-tho'?**

* * *

"Liv..."

There was no response from the mound under the covers on the bed.

"Livvie..."

Fitz shifted closer to the lump he guessed was her head and said softly, "I'm so sorry, baby."

"It's not your fault," came a muffled, mumbled reply.

"I married her. It's my fault." Fitz sighed. Then after a long pause, he muttered, "Do you want me to go?"

A hand snuck out from under the covers.

Fitz captured it with both hands, pressing kisses on the tips of her fingers, burying his lips in her palm. He felt a fresh wave of anger, despair and love as her fingers gently stroked his face. When eventually her caress stopped, Fitz took a steadying breath and rested his cheek in her hand and waited.

"Dad?"

Throwing a protective arm over Liv, Fitz yelled, "Go away!"

"Are you naked?"

"No!"

"Then we're coming in."

Fitz glared as the door opened and his son, daughter and Peter stared back at him from the doorway.

"Where's Aunt Liv?"

Keeping his arm around her, Fitz indicated the mound with a tilt of his head.

Jerry's eyes widened then he took off, yelling, "That's it! I'm going over to that fucking station and talking to those assholes myself!"

"Jerry! Stop!" Fitz scrambled off the bed.

"I'll go after him, sir!" Peter called running after Jerry, with Fitz in hot pursuit.

Only Karen was left standing in the doorway, staring at the shapeless mound that was Olivia.

The little girl walked cautiously over to the bed, then with even more care lifted one edge of the quilt and crawled all the way under. When she reached Olivia under the covers, she lay a gentle hand on Liv's sodden cheek and murmured, "Don't be sad."

"I don't want you to see me like this, Baby K." Olivia gasped, trying to stop weeping.

Karen snuggled even closer to whisper, "She's not my mom, Aunt Liv, you are."

* * *

"I told you we should have killed Melody Grant," Abby muttered as they all sat around the table at OPA. "In the worst horrible accident ever."

For once no one disagreed. Then Harrison said quietly, "I know that bitch has dropped a bomb on Liv, but sitting here isn't going to solve anything. We need to do something and we need to do it fast."

"Yeah, we need to sort out that bitch and her pack of lies, permanently!"

"What do you suggest?" Quinn turned to Harrison.

"We've got contacts – in the media and at the hospital. I'm sure we can find anyone else we need, if we have to."

"Yeah, I'm good at tracking them down," Huck said with a ferocious frown.

"And I'm good at gentle persuasion," Quinn said less ferociously.

Harrison nodded his approval. "If that bitch wants a media trial, we just need to put more witnesses on the stand."

* * *

"WTF, I can't believe I'm grounded again! Mom does the dirty on Aunt Liv and I get grounded!" Jerry railed as he paced his room.

"I've still got my phone," Peter held up his smartphone.

"WTF has that got to do with anything?" Jerry scowled.

"Youtube, derp. Then Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, etc."

Jerry's scowl disappeared and he said without heat. "Assbrain."

"Glad you approve, fucktard."

Jerry almost smiled, but then he grabbed the phone out of Peter's hand and switched it on.

"Hey. I'm Jerry, the President's son. That is the son of the President of the United States, because I know there's a whole bunch of other presidents in other places."

"Yawn." Peter stretched out his arms.

Jerry elbowed him aside. "Listen doofus, I'm trying to do this in one take! That bit needs to be edited out. And this bit too. So anyway, I'm here because my dad won't let me get on TV to talk to you. He doesn't want me to turn into a media-whore like my mom. You probably saw her right, on TV tonight talking crap about my Aunt Liv. That's Olivia Pope; the lady who faced off those assholes in white hoods a few days ago. Yeah, her. She's dope."

"Hey, that rhymes. Olivia Pope is dope," Peter repeated, doing a beatbox rhythm.

Jerry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well anyway. If you missed my Mom talking crap, that's okay. Actually it's better than okay."

"Tell them about Aunt Liv taking care of the school bully."

"I'm going to."

"And how she spoke to my parents so they let me stay here."

"Jeez, Pete, I'm getting there!"

* * *

"How could this happen, Cy? Why didn't the Secret Service let us know where she was?"

"Well, sir, they did tell us about her impromptu visit as an FYI. I just thought it was one of things, you know, she was going to talk about how she bastes the Thanksgiving Turkey or knits mittens for thankless children that sort of thing."

Fitz stared at his White House Chief of Staff.

"You knew and you didn't tell me."

"Well, I—"

"You didn't tell me because you knew Mellie would pull a stupid stunt like this...you were hoping she'd pull a stupid stunt like this...because you don't want Liv to be with me...you've never wanted us to be together..."

"Now, Sir—"

"Get out."

"Fitz..."

"Get out. No wait, Get the communications team in here, then get out."

* * *

"So what have we got?"

"I've got a witness who saw Liv with the President, holding him, just before he woke up."

"We've still got all that old stuff about that bitch and the toe-sucker. I say use it!"

"We can't, that stuff is privileged. But we can get the hotel staff to talk. Not all of them signed a gag order."

"I couldn't find a medical report about her miscarriage on the trail, but I did find a nurse who is willing to say Mrs Grant induced baby Teddy. But the woman will only only talk under strict safeguards protecting her identity."

"And I got Janine Locke. She wants to spill the beans on getting paid by Mrs Grant to be a patsy for the affair. Guess, she's not afraid of repercussions 'cuz the White House has bigger fish to fry."

"Yeah, Melody Grant."

"And I've got a taping of Mrs Grant talking to her mother on the phone. She's telling her mother not to send the two elder kids to see their dad because she has trouble handling them on a 'normal day' and she doesn't want to be caught screaming at the boy in front of the Press. She adds that she'll be sending the baby over to stay with her parents when it stops being useful to her 'mothering' image; and that she intends to get a divorce if the President stays in a coma or wakes up as a vegetable."

There was a silence as all three looked at Huck. "Where did you get that?"

"I'm a magician. The trick only works when you don't know how it's done."

"Tell me you didn't tape two random chicks reading a script."

"It's legit. I don't do that other stuff. Besides I authenticated one of the voices as Melody Grant, I've got her voice print."

"Huck, you have to tell us where you got it from?"

"Mrs Grant's father is suspected of money laundering and drug trafficking. The police have a wiretap on all the phones in the Watson home."

* * *

_…We interrupt normal programming tonight, to go Live to the White House where our President is addressing the nation…_

"My fellow Americans, I am speaking to you tonight, not as your President but as a man who is going through a divorce.

"Why do I need to announce this on national TV? Is it anyone's business other than mine and my family's as to what goes on in our private life?

"I don't believe it is, but when couples go through a bitter breakdown of their relationship, it gets ugly.

"If I were an average Joe living a quiet life out of the public eye, I could tell my wife I wanted a divorce and she'd probably yell abuse for the neighbours to hear, spray paint my car and burn my clothes on the lawn.

"But I'm the President of the United States and when I tell the First Lady I want a divorce, she gets on TV and well... the neighbours watching are all of you.

"Now I wish that weren't the case. I wish I could keep our acrimony private. But that's not to be.

"Earlier today you heard my wife - my soon to be _ex-wife - _call the woman I love a _whore_. She in fact called Olivia Pope _my_ whore. And the media ran with that slur as if one woman calling another that word is enough to make it stick.

"Let's see if that word is appropriate in this situation. I have found three definitions: a whore is either a prostitute; a person who is sexually promiscuous or a person who has compromised principles for personal gain.

"Olivia Pope is not a prostitute. She is a Crisis Manager. That's her business – if you have a problem, you call Olivia Pope and Associates and they resolve the issue. And she's very good at her job, as I'm sure many of her clients will gladly testify; as I will gladly testify because she helped resolve my crisis of a losing presidential campaign. Olivia Pope came on board after Sally Langston kicked my ass in Iowa and Olivia Pope helped me win New Hampshire, and eventually she got me here in the White House.

"Now a successful and savvy businesswoman like Ms Pope does charge a fee for her services – that fee is money. Not sex, money. Money which she declares to the Internal Revenue Service; money which helps her pay her bills, including the salaries of her associates; and money which allows her to extend her services in pro bono work as and when the need arises.

"So let's be clear, Olivia Pope is not a prostitute. Nor can she be accused of being sexually promiscuous. I know for a fact that I am one of two men Olivia has known in the past ten years. The other man in her life was her ex-fiancé.

"That's just two men in over a decade, and if you look at the studies – and depending on which ones you look at – it's normal for a woman to have between 4 to 9 sexual partners in their lifetime. So having a relationship with two men in ten years does not in any way shape or form make Olivia promiscuous.

"And the last definition is too ridiculous to even consider in relation to Liv. She has gained nothing from her relationship with me. She gave up a successful career to work on my campaign, and later, in my administration.

"When she resigned to work for herself, I have needed her help more times than she has needed mine.

"In fact the only thing I have ever given Olivia is my love.

"That gift has been hers to keep since the day I first laid eyes on her. But I was married and Olivia wanted to walk away. She did walk away so I could make my marriage work. But that didn't happen.

"Now, I don't want to go into the details of why my marriage didn't work out because some reasons are mundane while others are profound but all of them are private.

"What I can tell you is that I have never felt for another woman the way I feel about Olivia Pope. She came into my life and filled an emptiness in my very soul. Around her, I can be myself, I can be better than myself or I can be at my lowest. She accepts all of me, as I accept all of her.

"So I will not have Ms Olivia Pope humiliated by my soon-to-be ex-wife or anyone else. Olivia is not my whore, she is the love of my life. And I need you all to respect that. Goodnight."

* * *

**A/N: Not sure if I have been excused for using it in the last chapter, but Fitz spoke on my behalf about 'whore' usage. Or more accurately 'whore' over-usage when there should be no usage. Sorry, I'm getting preachy in my old age. I should find a soapbox, but then I'd have to get off the bed, and you know with a marauding Cat and Dog, I need to guard my territory. And the definitions for whore were stolen (verbatim) from The Free Dictionary - whore**

**Andx2 the wiretap was lazy and opportunistic - bad writer person, slaps wrist! I've no idea what Mellie's father does, but I'm going with ****_nothing good_****. Melody Grant spawn of evil people. (Yes, I'm ten - how did you guess my age?) But on a serious note, if you ever wondered (while living in the US) if the Police have the right to tap your phone, you can read about it on the .com website . **

**Also how do tweens talk nowadays? I had to take a teen slang quiz on the website. Eleven out of 12. Result: I'll make a cool mom/mum/ma/mudda but I'm a twihard (that was paraphrased). Talk about a backhanded compliment! They need to feel the joy of abundance over there in Good Housekeeping Land. FYI my house is a mess. You can find the quiz at family/parenting-tips/test-teen-slang-quiz**

**You can find more interesting tween terms here: 2012/02/25/random-stuff/new-swear-words-insults/ - I hope to use 'pie-faced crotch peasant' at least once in this lifetime. **

**BTW I am going with Olivia having 2 men, as that's what we got as viewers (Joke does not exist in this story). In the meantime, a bunch of photographs of Olivia smiling fully clothed at men also fully clothed is no evidence of party-girl promiscuity with older men. Seriously isn't a woman allowed to ****_date_****? And what's wrong with ****_consensual_**** sex? It's not as if she put her virginity up for sale on EBay like some college girls do (BTW that's not a plot suggestion)**

You can read up on the average sexual partner stats in the Sydney Morning Herald article written by Katherine Feeney on November 23, 2012. .


	17. Fallout

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ #OLITZ #OLITZ #4LIFE **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

When Fitz entered their bedroom again, he found Olivia sitting up in bed, her eyes red, her face swollen from crying and her hair a total mess.

She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

Closing the door, he leaned against it, smiling at her. "Hi."

"Hi," she mouthed, smiling back. Then she placed a finger on her lips, and gestured him forward.

When he drew close, he felt his heart melt at the sight of his daughter curled up in the middle of the bed, fast asleep.

"I'll take her to her room." He leaned down, but she stopped him, placing a hand on his arm.

"No, let her stay."

He straightened up, then cupped her face in gentle hands. "Okay, but I'm not happy at having to wear PJs."

She giggled, beaming at him. "Come on, we need to get you cleaned up." She took his hands in hers and carefully eased off the bed.

"Why? Where are we going?"

She gave him a look.

"Oh..." he husked a chuckle, pulling her back against him as they staggered to the bathroom, with her trying not to laugh and him trying to kiss her.

"You are a menace," she scolded as she tried to take off his tie while he was doing his best impression of a limpet, his face buried against her neck.

Unfazed Fitz kissed his way up to her mouth and lifted her off her feet as he explored the wonders of her mouth. When he let her up for air, she husked, "This is going to take way too much time if you keep doing that."

With a look that could have melted icicles in a blizzard, he kissed her again.

Olivia moaned softly, wrapping her arms around his neck but quickly broke away when he tugged at her pants.

"There's a zip," she gasped.

"Where?"

She guided his hand to its location, then eyes locked, their hands slid the zipper down slowly.

She grunted when he tugged her pants and undies out of the way. She sighed when he stroked her bare ass and leaning forward to kiss him again.

Their breathing grew erratic and their movements urgent as he stood her on her feet so he could get all her clothes off.

"I could bite you just here," he growled, against the spot just below her ear.

"This time I won't need a scarf, because the world knows I'm your woman."

Fitz froze with his hands on her bra catch. Then shifting his hands to her waist, he drew back to stare at her.

"So you're...mad at me?"

She hooked her fingers in his belt and tugged him close. "Yeah, I'm mad at you." She grinned, undoing his pants.

He was still eyeing her warily. "So you're...not...mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you," she grinned, removing her bra and tossing it aside.

His gaze dropped, and she saw his face heat up with desire as she placed one of his hands over a breast.

Then he groaned, dropping his forehead against hers. "Livvie...I'm confused."

"Fitz..." she whispered huskily, her own hands exploring his body. "I'm mad that you just told the world, or more precisely all the American voters, that you've been cheating on your wife."

He stopped stroking her and drew back.

"But," She smiled, "I'm not mad at you for giving props to my business."

"And," she stood on tiptoe, bringing her hands to cup his face. "I'm not mad that you stood on your mountain top and gave a shout out to the world that you love me..."

With a groan of relief, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet.

"So on balance, we're good?"

"Guess," she teased, leaning in for a kiss.

* * *

_Tough break for the guy. He wants to end things quickly and quietly and the wife goes and chucks his underpants on the world's nose. Yeah, that's what happens when you live your life in the public eye, the public gets the best seats in the house to check out your privates. Yeah, sure he could have waited until he left the job...but why would you want to? Life's short, my friend. You need to get your life. You need to get it now. Carpe diem, peeps, car-pay da-yam. And we're not talking about a random side chick, we're talking about the love of a man's life. That's deep man, that's way down deep…_

….

_It's the First Wife Syndrome isn't it, where the bitter First Wife can't or won't move on, and makes everyone's life hell in the process. I mean First Wives need to understand – your man has left the building. He has caught the bus and moved his heart and golf clubs in with his new bird. What did the President say, yes that's right – the love of his life. I mean I personally found it very reassuring that the man at the helm of a party with no heart at all, did in fact possess that vital organ. Now we know why the conservatives are a bunch of heartless bastards – they have given their one collective heart to Ms Olivia Pope..._

….

_Hell, if someone told me 'you can't be with the woman you love because of your job', I'd jack the job and get my girl. But you can't do that when you're Boss of the nation, hell some might say the Boss of the world. In that job, you can't say F-U and walk off. No, you're stuck in that damn job like a pig in clay. And when that happens, you sure as hell need a broad who's good company. But you know what really got me? Boss man held this broad's hand in front of God and Country. He sure did. And he was proud as all heck to be doing it – that tells me this ain't some backalley ho. This here is someone I should sit up and pay attention to. And his kids like her. That's the acid test, folks, if the kids like your lady, she's the real deal..._

Fitz blinked bleary eyes at Karen sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed. "Hey pumpkin, what are you doing?"

Karen crawled back to wedge herself between Olivia and Fitz. "I'm watching people talk about you and Aunt Liv."

"Turn off the TV. I don't want you watching that crap."

"Daddy, I'm eight. I'm old enough to sit at the grown up table. Tell him, Aunt Liv."

"Fitz, Baby K has a pass to sit with the adults." Olivia smiled, eyes still closed, then snapped wide awake when Fitz said, "Who is this child? My little girl hasn't even been potty trained." But she relaxed when Karen giggled, hugging her father's neck.

"Silly Daddy, I am your little girl, and I have been potty trained. It's Teddy who needs help."

"You sure?" Fitz teased, smothering her face with kisses and making her laugh out loud. Then he drew back with a serious face. "Do you want to check if Jerry's awake?"

"No. He gets mad when I go wake him and ask him if he's still asleep."

Olivia snuffled a laugh.

"How about you see if Teddy wants to say hi to his big sister?"

"The nurse won't let me see him until after breakfast. She says I distract him from eating his mushy cereal, and Teddy hates mushy cereal."

"How about you go brush your teeth, wash your face and change your PJs and then we can all go down to breakfast."

Karen sat up. She switching her gaze between Fitz and Olivia, then she smiled.

"Daddy, you know you can tell me to go because you want to be with Aunt Liv. I know about sex."

There was an awkward pause, then Fitz croaked, "Who told you? Jerry? Wait – the Internet?"

"Daddy, Grandpa Watson has horses." Karen said cryptically before scrambling off the bed. "Okay, I'm going to my room now. Do you want me to put a 'do not disturb' sign on the door?"

"No."

There was silence as Karen walked to the door. The silence continued after she had gently closed the door behind her. Eventually, Fitz turned to find that Olivia had buried herself under the covers again.

"Liv...?"

"I can't face Karen again...I'm sorry, I just can't..." she groaned in genuine pathos, then ruined it with a giggle.

* * *

"He called me his _ex-wife_. Hollis, his _soon-to-be_ ex wife."

"Yes, that's a damn shame. Now you can't milk that goat for a month of Sundays. Not after it came out that you wanted to pull the plug on wedded bliss if Fitzy boy became a bowl of grits."

"I can't believe that damned reporter printed all those lies about me. He says he can't reveal his sources but they've been authenticated. That's just double talk for pure fabrication. If it was me talking, you'd hear me on the tape, but no one is releasing the tape! So it's just lies - all lies!"

"Just like Janine Locke, I'll bet."

"Oh don't even mention that stupid woman's name! To tell everyone that I paid her to take the fall. I should sue her!"

"With what? Hasn't Fitzy boy capped the gusher on your little money tree. And I don't think them lawyers want to be paid in charm bracelets and 'gater tears."

"Listen, Hollis, I am shattered! Do you hear me? Shattered by everything that's happened!"

"Yeah, that deep throat report on how you induced your son is really getting a lot of traction. In fact, I would say that you've achieved a miracle, Mellie. You've brought two sworn enemies - the pro-lifers and the pro-choicers - together, united in their disgust about what you did. That's a hellavu mighty achievement. They might even put you up for the Nobel Peace Prize for that one."

"I did that to save my marriage!"

"Hell, woman, what did you do with the money your mama gave you for singing lessons? That sorta thing ain't going to save your marriage. You could have jeopardised Fitzy boy's chances of even dreaming of a second term. Good thing he'd already pre-planned to photoshop you out of the White House Christmas Card."

"No one is going to photoshop me out of the picture! That's my life. My husband, my children, my family!"

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, darlin', because them kids of yours sure ain't cheering from the stands."

"That's her fault! She's brainwashed Jerry! She made him call me a mediawhore as revenge! Well I won't let her get away with it! I won't! I just need to take a break and regroup."

"You going to stay with your folks?"

"No, they don't want me to talk to them. I'm going to stay at the Beach House in California. That's where I'll be spending Thanksgiving, alone in Santa Barbara."

"Don't you still have the Secret Service on your tail?"

"Yes, but I won't have my family, Hollis, my own flesh and blood."

"Like I said, that sure is a crying shame."

* * *

Later that night, snug in his arms, Olivia murmured, "We should spend Thanksgiving in Vermont, all of us."

"Who's all of us?"

"You, me, the kids, OPA, Cyrus, James, Ella—"

"Cyrus can't come. But I'm okay with James and Ella."

"Fitz," she inched back just enough to meet his gaze. "We can't have James and Ella if Cyrus isn't invited."

"I don't want him there."

"Why?"

"Livvie, it's my first Thanksgiving with you, the kids, us as a family. I don't want Cyrus there."

Liv narrowed her gaze but Fitz didn't add more, so she sighed and lay her head back on his shoulder. "Fine. No Cyrus."

"Thank you." He kissed the top of her head.

"But you're okay with OPA being there?"

"Yeah, I don't want to give thanks over popcorn and wine. So we'll need them there to cook. Ow! That hurt!"

"Good."

* * *

**A/N: I'm glad most of you liked the press conference. It was OTT and some of you thought it was a bad idea/unrealistic/Fitz de-balling effort. I chose that scene (mainly because I couldn't think of a better one) but also because I intended the following :**

**1) Fitz's defence of Olivia had to reach the same breadth of audience as Mellie's trashing**

**2) He had to make a statement, not invite questions, about the woman he loves who has a role in his future, who will be scrutinised by the public if not now, then in the future when he runs for a second term. (Look at how much we know about that silly Sarah Palin and her family, and she wasn't even running for President. BTW I'm here for Martin Bashir if he needs a hug).**

**3) Fitz had to show Olivia as a woman of substance, intelligence and contributing member of society. (This was intended because there was a time I knew more about Monica Lewinsky's dress than I knew about Monica Lewinsky herself. Emphasis: I am NOT comparing Olivia to Monica, I'm just saying that mention the word 'affair' and the woman is portrayed with as many dimensions as a sex toy)**

**4) And this is the main reason - Fitz had to speak from his heart. He was speaking as much off the cuff as I could make it, because he is a man (not President) defending the woman he loves. His focus: OLIVIA IS NOT A WHORE! (because everyone else in the last chapter was addressing other aspects of Mellie's speech - Fitz had to address the Whore reference). So I responded to the Whore definitions (within the confines of Scandal) because Shonda Writers keep calling KerLivia a WHORE via Bellie or some other plot device. I find that insulting and ridiculous.**

**Note: I'm re-writing a fictional character to my liking. Also found it interesting that it was less believable for Fitz to defend Olivia in public than for Mellie to trash her the same way... **

**In other news: I got the First Wife Syndrome reference from this site postdivorcechronicles .com- read a very funny second wife letter by divorce coach Lee Brochstein, published June 2011 2011/06/the-first-wife-syndrome/**

**Confession time: I am really honoured that you would credit me with knowledge about the Centennial of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, and its founder Vashti Turley Murphy being the grandmother of Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie. I actually read about Bishop Murphy Mckenzie on Wikipedia and was so impressed I included her in my little story. Another confession: I am a Buddhist (born, raised and sporadically following in the Theravada tradition). So I am deeply relieved I haven't offended anyone with anything I wrote in the Nancy Drake chapter. Unless you've all been holding back on telling me off about any blasphemies I've committed (?!). **

**Confession #3: I haven't read 50 Shades the original, but I will check out 50 shades FF as recommended :))) And I'm sorry but I cannot mess with Queen Beyonce's genius... I am too busy bowing down. - BTW, I've just been told that comment was for the wrong story- phew! :)))) and I've asked for directions to the right story!  
**


	18. Thanksgiving

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ #OLITZ #OLITZ #4LIFE #NotAMellitzer **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Da!" Teddy clapped his hands, chortling merrily as he leaned forward on Olivia's knee, making as if to grab the distant figure of his father playing tag with the other kids, and several agents including Tom, on the frozen lake of their Vermont home. "Da! Da!"

Probably hearing the demands, Fitz turned towards them, his eyes squinting in the sun, then skilfully dodging a grab by Jerry, he skated off the lake and hiked up the snow laden incline towards the picnic table where Liv had chosen to watch the entertainment.

"Had enough, old man?" she chuckled.

"Hey, is that anyway to talk to the guy who just crossed the icy tundra, fighting off hellion forces to be with his woman and little man," Fitz said a little breathlessly, as he sat down to take off his skates.

"Come closer," Olivia murmured huskily, when he complied with a smile, she curled Teddy's fist and brought it up to pop his father's nose.

"Teddy is not here for your sexist talk," she said primly, as Fitz laughed softly, dropping a kiss on Teddy's outstretch fist before sneaking a kiss on the corner of her mouth .

"You started it, calling me old man," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear.

"If the shoe fits..." she whispered, shifting away; then seeing the wicked glint in his eyes, she warned, "Fitz…I am holding your son and he's too young to start therapy."

But whatever retaliation Fitz meant to take, was stalled by the sudden appearance of Huck.

"Abby wants everyone back at the house."

Fitz and Olivia stared at the adhesive strip on Huck's cheek and huge burn on his hand.

"Should we ask...?" Fitz indicated the injuries.

"No." Huck glowered.

"Right," Olivia stood up, shifting Teddy on to her hip as she yelled across the lake. "Hey, guys! We have to go! It's time to eat!"

* * *

The formal dining area, decorated with fall fruit and autumn wreaths, was now resplendent with an extended table laid out with enough food to sustain them for a week.

"Wow," the kids breathed.

"Wow," Olivia repeated "You guys have really outdone yourselves."

"This looks amazing," Fitz said in a similarly awestruck voice.

"Thank you. It's just a few little things I put together." Abby smiled bashfully, then rolled her eyes when Quinn, Harrison and Huck all glared at her.

"Okay fine. They helped a bit...okay a lot. But you know it was my vision."

"And our blood, sweat and tears," Harrison muttered. "Next time we order in, okay?"

"When can we eat?" Jerry asked, his eyes fixed on the table.

"As soon as we sit down!" Abby laughed, but her words were drowned out in the sudden scramble for chairs as kids, agents and OPA all made a dash to the table.

They left a space at the head of the table for Fitz, and Olivia was touched to see that the seat right of him, remained free for her and that there was enough space for Teddy's baby chair to be placed between them.

They had all barely settled down before Jerry reached for a biscuit which he dropped in surprise when Quinn, seated next to him, slapped his wrist and hissed, "We haven't said Grace yet."

"Sorry," Jerry eyed her warily, then promptly placed his hands together in prayer and rushed out, "Bless this food and us that eats it. Okay, Grace said. Dig in!" He grabbed the biscuit again.

"Put that back!"

"No!"

"Hey, man!"

"Jerry!"

At the chorus of yells, Jerry dropped the biscuit. "Jeez, you guys, chill. It was just one biscuit."

"You, young man, are in so much trouble," Quinn muttered as Karen giggled and Peter developed a sudden cough.

"Okay, let's hold hands," Olivia instructed, then watched with amusement as Jerry extended his hand cautiously towards Quinn, who grabbed it with a disapproving frown. There was also a slight delay as Huck and Tom stared dubiously at each other before gingerly holding hands, which made Harrison snort a laugh until the burly agent next to him, held out a meaty paw.

Once everyone was more or less holding hands, including Olivia and Fitz holding each of Teddy's, silence fell. Then Fitz cleared his throat and began, "Our Father in Heaven, we give thanks for the pleasure of gathering together for this occasion. We give thanks for life, the freedom to enjoy it all, and all other blessings. We pray for the wellbeing of everyone sharing this day with their loved ones and those on foreign soil keeping us safe. As we partake of this food, we give special thanks to the hands that made it, Abby, Quinn, Harrison and Huck; the agents who have selflessly given of their time to be here with us today; to my family sharing our first Thanksgiving – my children: Jerry, Karen, Teddy and honorary son Peter," There was a ripple of laughter, "And my partner in love and my woman, Olivia. And we pray for safety and for strength in the days ahead. This we ask in the name of Christ Our Heavenly Father."

"Amen." The table chorused, and then all hands reached for the dishes of food.

"Your woman..." Olivia muttered, as she let go of Teddy's hand and reached for his bib.

"My woman," Fitz grinned cheekily, before he stood up to carve the turkey.

* * *

Several hours later as OPA entertained the kids, Olivia and Fitz were in the kitchen taking care of the dishes and general tidying up, while a couple of agents had taken the bigger pots and pans to be cleaned with a high pressure hose in the garage.

"This was a good idea, having everyone over." Fitz smiled, bringing Olivia to rest against him as they waited for the last load in the dishwasher to end its cycle.

"I'm always full of good ideas." She nuzzled his nose. "But I'm still going to get you back for calling me _your woman_ in the Thanksgiving prayer."

"How, when, where?"

"Not telling."

"How about now – on the floor, the benchtop or against the refrigerator?"

Laughing, Olivia pulled out of his arms. "Behave, mister. Or you'll be on garbage duty by yourself."

He let her take a couple of steps, before hauling her back into his arms and buzzing her neck. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, then turned swiftly and kissed him.

Even later as Harrison taught Jazz tunes to Peter on the piano; and Abby and Quinn bickered over details of the _Headless Horseman_ story for Karen's benefit; and Huck and the agents watched Jerry like hawks in their game of cards – Fitz whispered against Olivia's temple, "I want a baby."

"Careful, tho' he's just dozed off," Liv murmured, looking at Teddy asleep in her arms.

"Liv...I want our baby…with you..."

Olivia leaned her head back against his shoulder and shifted slightly within the snug warmth of his arms as they sat on the couch in front of the fire.

"Liv...?"

"We can't..."

"You keep saying that."

"You're still married."

"I'm getting a divorce."

"She hasn't signed the papers."

"She'll have to, in a little less than a month."

"She doesn't have to. You know that." Olivia turned her face into his neck. "And you know she won't give up until she has what she wants."

"Not this time," Fitz promised, shifting her closer, while making sure he didn't wake Teddy. "You're my woman."

She smiled against his skin. "Naughty..."

"Will anyone notice if we sneak off?"

"Yes."

"Would it be rude if I order everyone off to bed?"

"Yes."

"How about if I just turn off the lights?"

She chuckled softly. "How are you going to do that? Because Teddy and I aren't moving."

Suddenly there was a disruption at the card table as Tom stood up.

"Sir, you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" Fitz frowned, as Olivia straightened away from him.

"Yes, sir, Mr Cyrus Beene. He's just been let through the gates."

* * *

**A/N: So a few factual issues – does Vermont get enough snow in November for ice-skating – apparently so and they have skiing too but I've no idea if the 'Californian' ranch shown for Vermontgate is of sufficiently high altitude for any of that, but I'm going with it is. The Thanksgiving prayers were lifted from and one of them paraphrased a bit to pretend I wasn't plagiarising. Let me know if there's problem with wording, context and Fitz's denomination.**

**About the ****_First Wife Syndrome_**** - that's a very good point. I didn't think of that and now that I am thinking of it, you're right - not all first marriages fail, so it would have been better for me to refer to this as the ****_Ex-Wife_**** Syndrome. Or better yet, the ****_Bitter _****Ex-Wife Syndrome because not all ex-wives are bitter. So we'll think of it in those terms from now on :)))**

**As for Mellie, I don't believe it's insecurity or disappointment that's preventing her from moving on. I believe it's power and her 'five minutes of fame' as First Lady.**

**I don't think Mellie would have fought this hard if Fitz was a carpenter*. Neither do I think that Mellie would have married Fitz nor stayed married if he hadn't achieved such a high-profile public life. Most of her attempts to be ****_functional_**** have involved talking to the media (on the show). The private moments have involved humiliating Olivia. Conclusion: I am harshly judgmental of Mellie.**

**If I wasn't totally turned off Mellie, I could have given her some dignity in the dissolution of her politically-gainful arranged marriage; by showing her actually loving someone other than herself. But there already are a few Mellie stories like that on FF, so I've focused on making Mellie look bad in every viable plot towards a possible divorce. Sorry I shouldn't be enjoying that so much - but honestly, I am! :))))**

**(BTW, I was referencing Tim Hardin's song* 'If I were a carpenter' - you can hear Bobby Darin sing his hit version on YouTube : /watch?v=bjFRLOktHXo. The version I first heard was by Gordon Lightfoot. Warning: song is a leeetle sexist)**

**Next, Karen is eight in this story, but I think I've been writing her in the 4,5,6 range most of the time. She regressed living with the Watsons!**

**And yes, I have been checking out how I can avoid publisher-middle people, to reach readers directly and have thus discovered Smashwords... hmm, eventually... (picture: rubbing of hands with smile of evil glee)**


	19. Oblivion

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ #OLITZ #OLITZ4LIFE #NeverAMellitzer ))))))**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Cyrus, this is a pleasant surprise," said Fitz while his unsmiling face indicated it was anything but, when Cyrus was shown into the study.

Feeling the sudden tension in the room, Olivia glanced between the two men who appeared to be sizing each other. Then seeing Fitz's stance become more combative, she attempted a distraction by asking Cyrus if he'd eaten.

"This isn't a social call, Olivia." Cyrus collapsed into an armchair, his face even more haggard than usual. "We got word this evening that Mellie has asked US Attorney David Rosen to meet with her at the beach house tomorrow morning. Again, I understand this will not be a social visit to partake of Thanksgiving leftovers."

"What's it about?" Fitz asked, with a narrowed gaze.

"I don't know, sir, my spies aren't mind-readers."

"Perhaps you need to give them further training."

Cyrus jerked forward in his seat. "Now, listen! I left the bosom of my loving family on Thanksgiving Day to fly all the way from Washington DC to Vermont, then to drive all the way from the airport to be here in the middle of nowhere so that I can let you know the lunatic you call your wife is about to release another evil from her little Pandora's box. Is it too much to ask that I get a simple thank you after doing all that?"

"Thank you." Fitz glared at him.

"Okay, time out." Olivia straightened from her perch on the arm of the leather sofa. "You guys need to sort out your big boy problems soon, but right now let's not panic over this. If Mellie does have something to say to David that affects Fitz, David will have to tell us about it sooner or later. If not, we can get Abby to break into his apartment and find out what he's hiding."

"Abby?" Fitz raised a brow.

"Yes, she has an on again-off again relationship with David. They're off right now, but she still has the keys to his apartment. If he's changed the locks, she'll know how to get in."

"Just as a matter of interest, until the criminals in Olivia's gang can break into David's apartment, what do we do?"

"We rest, Cy," Olivia helped him out of the armchair. "Or in your case, rest after you have had something to eat. Come on, I'll take your coat and then you can freshen up in the powder room – first door on the left."

Once Cyrus had gone, Fitz muttered, "I don't want him here."

"I know. But he's here, Fitz. So what do you want to do? Throw him out in the snow?"

"Is that bad?"

She laughed tugging him towards her by his sweater. "Jerry's right, you are a meanie when you get mad."

"Kiss me and I'll forget you've been talking about me behind my back."

Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck and let him lift her off her feet, already reaching for his mouth.

* * *

"Why aren't you more worried about this?" Cyrus asked later, watching Olivia fix him a plate in the kitchen, while Fitz was seeing the kids off to bed.

"There's no point worrying about it, Cy, not until we know what exactly we need to worry about."

"Olivia, don't you think there's a reason why I came rushing all the way here? A reason why I didn't just wait for Rosen to just present whatever horror Mellie has up her sleeve, as some kind of _fait accompli_? Have you forgotten about the big bogey that dared not be mentioned?"

"What bogey?"

Cyrus looked over his shoulder, then drew even closer and hissed, "Defiance."

Olivia levelled her gaze on him for several seconds, then said drily, "Cy, Mellie is involved in that too. She can't talk about it to David. Not unless she wants us all to be in the next episode of _Orange is the New Black_. There's no way she can reveal..."

"Don't say it!" Cyrus hissed again.

"There is no way she can reveal what we did without getting herself indicted as well. And I don't think orange is her colour… Cranberry sauce?"

"Olivia, this is not a joke. That woman is capable of anything, _anything_! She's like one of those kids who borrow their dad's loaded gun to play cowboys in the backyard, who then end up wondering why their kid sister or brother is really dead. She doesn't think, _does not think_, about the consequences."

"I hear you, Cy, but I'm trying to give her the benefit of using her common sense this time."

"She doesn't have any!" Cyrus hissed. Then paused, looking at her. "Are you being generous because you feel guilty about taking the one thing she wants most?"

"She doesn't want Fitz the man," Olivia got him some cutlery, then reached for a wine glass from the shelf and a bottle of wine from the rack. "She wants Fitz the President."

"If you get that, why won't you let her have what she wants? Then all this could easily be avoided, she gets what she wants and you can have what you want – it's a win-win situation. This other way, it's too dangerous; too unpredictable. You know how Mellie gets when she's angry – she's a loose cannon and who knows who or what she's aiming at next."

Olivia finished pouring the glass of wine for Cyrus, then set the bottle on the benchtop and looked at him.

"Why did you marry James, Cyrus? Tell me why you married him when you knew it would not win you any favours in your own party. Tell me why you went ahead and tied the knot – ignoring all the hate mail; the abusive phone calls; the attacks in social media and the rants from 'right-wing wingnuts' as you call them who wanted your resignation or more often your head, all because you didn't adhere to the official party stance that a marriage has to be between a man and a woman. So tell me, why did you marry James?"

"Well, I..uh, James..." Cyrus tugged at his collar, glanced at Olivia, then shifted his gaze to the floor. "I love him."

"And I love Fitz, Cy. And he loves me. Once I would have bought into your argument. Once I would have agreed with you – agreed with everything anyone had to say about why I shouldn't, couldn't, wouldn't have Fitz. Why the best I could ever hope for were stolen moments, and even that was worse than having nothing; worse than not being with him, not seeing him, not talking to him, not—" she stopped, and smiled. "I know the odds are stacked against us. At first I thought the odds were the kids, Mellie, my colour. But now I see it's just fear. Fear of what _could _happen – what Mellie _could_ do; how Fitz _could _lose. Could; would; should – I don't want to live like that anymore, Cy. I want to face my fear. I want to face it and tell it to do its worst, because I'm ready to fight for the best thing in my life. I'm ready Cy, to fight for me, for Fitz, for the kids. We deserve it."

Cyrus stood staring at the floor in silence, then with an abruptness that startled her, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, muttering without looking at her. "I'll just eat in here at the kitchen table. No need to fuss. I'm good. I'll clean up after myself. You go find Fitz."

"Thanks, Cy." Olivia wiped away the tears from her face and gave him a quick hug, before walking out of the kitchen.

She had barely stepped through the doorway when she found herself grabbed in a fierce hug that lifted her off her feet, but the protests died on her lips when she saw the look on Fitz's face.

"You were listening," she whispered, lifting her hands to gently wipe the moisture from his lashes. When he didn't speak, she kissed the point between his brows, the tip of his chin before softly placing her smile on his lips.

"I love you." Her words brushed against his skin then she sighed as Fitz turned and buried his face in her neck. Wordlessly, she slid his hands into his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist as they held each other for a long, long moment.

"Let me down," she instructed softly when he drew back eventually and looked at her, wanting to take his hand and lead him to bed.

Instead, keeping her straddled around his waist, Fitz carried her through the living area, oblivious of watching eyes, as he headed up to their room.

* * *

From where she was seated, curled up in an armchair in front of the fire, Abby made a face. "Are they going to be like that all weekend? Because I haven't got my anti-nausea medication."

Harrison cracked open an eye from where he was dozing on the opposite chair and muttered. "You need a new man in your life, Abs. You know the one you've got is no good, if the sight of true love makes you sick to the stomach."

Sitting like bookends on the two ends of the couch, Quinn and Huck exchanged a glance, then Quinn sighed, "Yes, those two are so sweet together; they make me go all mushy inside."

"That's probably the three slices of sweet potato pie you had."

"You counted?!" Quinn jerked her head towards Huck in outrage.

"I notice these things. It's my nature. I also saw you take two scoops of mashed potato and an extra large helping of stuffing."

"Huck, quit yanking Quinn's chain. We all ate way too much, I had three helpings of roast turkey and I didn't think I could even look at that bird after going up to my elbows in raw guts." Harrison gave a shiver of disgust.

"Okay, I didn't need that image in my mind right now," Quinn put a hand to her stomach.

Huck reliving his own kitchen nightmares, said grimly, "Next time remind me to bring a blow torch. This oven business does not work for me,"

"So you think I should get a new man..." Abby mused, twirling a strand of hair as she stared into the crackling fire.

"Yes," came three confirmations in sync.

* * *

**A/N; I realise that Cyrus is not popular with people seeing ****_Scandal-is-the-New-Ted-Bundy-Nation_**** but I like the guy who brought Olivia in to help Fitz with his campaign. So I'm going to cut him some slack. A lot of slack – like pretending he didn't hire Charlie to kill James (SMH, you would think the GOP were supervising Shonda Writers' scripts). Anyway, I know it's asking a lot but please pretend you haven't seen the last season and a half of Scandal with regards to Cyrus in relation to this story.**

**With regards to Fitz's surprise religiosity: I have the impression that American leaders, especially Republicans, have to proudly display their faith – specifically their Christian faith, so I thought Fitz should demonstrate at least one party aspect, considering he is so non-Republican in everything else. Also, I didn't want to show his faith in the same vein as Sally Langston's :)))) **

**BTW sort of unrelated, but I'm sharing: My absolute favourite '****_So Who Do You Think You Are' _****episode was about singer John Butler, an Australian-American (officially, but he has a very multicultural background). After seeing John's story, you can see how certain convictions or character traits are inherited (similar to ****_'The Ghost in Your Genes'_****). If you can spare the time, I highly recommend seeing John Butler's AMAZING story on sbs . com .au **

** www. sbs. com. au / shows/whodoyouthinkyouare/episodes/detail/episode/1672/season/2**

**In Fitz's case, I like to think his 'inheritance' of idealism must have come from an earlier generation or from his mother's side – a nebulous figure who will remain as such in this story!**

**Note: ****_The Ghost in Your Genes_**** is a BBC documentary on the 'science of inheritance'. See the documentary on Youtube - **** www. youtube. com **/watch?v=BEzW7LWr1Ws. It will surprise you if you haven't already seen it on PBS. (Just realised how I can save links in my notes - just put a lot of spaces!)  



	20. Action

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ #OLITZ #OLITZ #4LIFE **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"You're thinking," Fitz rasped against her neck, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Olivia whispered, playing her fingers through her hair.

With a sleepy grumble, Fitz rolled away to turn on the bedside lamp. Then in the soft mellow light, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked at her with bleary eyes.

"You're so handsome," she chuckled, grinning at the mess her hands had made of his curls.

He raised a brow, which only made her giggle more.

Giving a soft grunt, he rolled onto his back and reached over to haul her on top of him. "Talk."

"Mmm...you are sooo sexy when you get all bossy."

Spearing her hands through his hair, she lowered her mouth to tease him into a lazy kiss, smiling when his hold on her relaxed and his hands began smoothing over her skin. Then she gasped out a laugh as he suddenly flipped her onto her back.

"You are the Queen of Distraction," he growled with mock sternness.

"You love it," she grinned, hooking her arms around his waist and reaching for his mouth again.

"I love you," he groaned, getting half way into the kiss, before quickly shifting out of reach. "But I want to know what's bothering you. Tell me."

At his tender command, she sighed and flopped against the pillows, uttering one word. "David."

Fitz slid off to the side, and propping himself on one arm, he lifted the other to brush her hair away from her face. "You said we weren't going to worry about him, until he bothers us."

"I know."

"But..."

"But I'm worried."

A grunt of laughter escaped him, as he stroked a thumb over her cheek.

"So what do you want to do about it?"

"I don't know..."

"Do you want me to run you a bath? Or clear the snow off the front porch so you can pace in circles?"

"You are too cute, even though I'm pretty sure you're throwing some shade."

"I'm not throwing shade. I'm making you an offer. Two, in fact. If you choose the bath option, I'll share it with you." He lowered his mouth to hers.

"That won't help me think," she snuffled a laugh against his lips.

"Mmm..." His hand slid under the sheets.

"Fitz, no..!" she laughed, wriggling away from him. "Baby, I really do need to think about this." She reached over and brushed a kiss on his pouty mouth, "And I think I need coffee." She kicked her way out of the tangled covers and reached for a robe.

"Livvie..."

Halfway into the robe, she paused with a look of inquiry.

"Wear that after you get to the door."

With a husky laugh accompanying the shake of her head, Olivia removed the robe and with a hand on her hip, sashayed to the door. Once there, she paused to glance over her shoulder, and found him grinning at her wickedly, with the tips of his ears burning fire engine red.

Laughing huskily, Olivia blew him a kiss and walked out the door.

* * *

"Eww! Olivia!"

"Abby!" Olivia clutched the robe to herself as Abby screwed her eyes shut, then slapped her hands over her face as if for double protection.

Olivia quickly pulled on the robe and fastened it, before telling Abby. "You can look now. It's safe."

Abby sneaked a look through her fingers, then dropped her hands in relief. "You could have warned me you were going to prance about naked."

"I wasn't prancing. I was walking and I didn't know you'd be out here. Why are you out here?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Neither could I."

They eyed each other warily, then Olivia muttered, "I was going down to the kitchen to make coffee."

"It's 3AM." Abby paused seeing the look on Olivia's face, before admitting, "All right, yes I was going to do that too."

"So why couldn't you sleep?" Olivia asked as they made their way downstairs.

"David. And you?"

"David."

Abby pulled up short, making a face. "You and David?"

"Eww!" Olivia made a face. "I'm with Fitz, remember?"

"I wish I could forget. I now have several unfortunate images burnt into my brain, including the one that just happened."

Olivia snickered a laugh. "So what's David done now?"

"Oh no, I want to know your story first."

"Mellie Grant wants to talk to David."

"What about?"

"I don't know."

"When?"

"Today, but I don't what time, if that's going to be your next question."

Abby stayed silent until they reached the kitchen and Olivia turned on the lights. "You know I have a GPS phone tracker on David's phone."

"And I can kidnap him."

"Huck!" The two women jumped around.

"I was just being helpful."

"Could you not sneak up on people when you're doing that!" Abby gave him a shove as he drew near.

"Actually I've changed my mind about coffee, is tea okay for you guys?" Olivia checked the cupboards.

"It's fine. Camomile if you have it."

"I'll have a glass of milk," Huck added.

"Okay, milk for you. Camomile for Abby, and Sweet Peach for me."

"And Orange Pekoe for me, if you've got it."

"Harrison," Olivia looked over her shoulder as she filled the kettle. "Why is everyone awake?"

"Hey, I heard a noise and I got out of bed thinking it was a mouse. But it turns out it was just Abby, seeing you naked."

"What?! You all saw me naked?"

"Yes," said Huck.

"No," said Harrison.

"It was pretty dark in the hallway," said Quinn from the doorway.

Olivia groaned. "Okay, an order of brain bleach coming up for everyone."

"I'll have a hot chocolate instead, if it's all the same to you," Quinn murmured.

A chuckle escaped Olivia as she plugged the kettle in.

The others went about hunting for mugs, utensils and other beverage requirements as per their requests.

"So are we kidnapping David?" Quinn asked as she warmed milk in a pan for the hot chocolate.

"No," Olivia stressed, pouring boiling water into three mugs to be steeped in tea. "I just want to find out what Mellie tells David."

"We can follow him," Abby said. "To where ever he's going."

"He's meeting her at the Grant Beach house in Santa Barbara."

"Well, I can check for flight bookings from DC to Santa Barbara for David."

"And I can help make the bookings for us to get there in time to follow him. Flights, cars, you name it. It's handled!"

Abby looked at Quinn. "A little less enthusiasm, okay? It's too early for Ms Perky to make an appearance."

"So when can she make an appearance?"

"When she's alone in her room, any time of the day."

Huck looked around the table grimly. "If David is meeting Mrs Grant this morning, we won't get there in time. Vermont is farther away from California than DC. So we can't follow him. And I can't set up surveillance equipment to listen to their conversation once he gets there."

"I know a guy-" Harrison began.

"We're not involving anyone else." Olivia said firmly.

"Okay, how about we catch David when he gets back to DC?"

"Then what do we do? Is Huck going to torture the information out of him?" Quinn asked warily.

"Okay."

"No," Harrison grimaced. "We talk to the guy. He owes Liv a few favours. Like the time he didn't end up in jail for a murder he didn't commit."

"He's probably forgotten all about that." Olivia gave a wry smile.

"We'll help him remember," Harrison promised. "With some persuasion."

"I'm ready."

"I'm ready."

Abby and Huck said together, then turned and frowned at each other.

"Okay, so we're all going?" Quinn asked. "Then I'll book our seats."

"Make sure it's Business Class, this time. I don't want to share my armrest with someone else's elbow."

"And I'd like a window seat."

"And I need a vegetarian meal," Huck said. "Chicken is not a vegetable."

"Does Olivia have to go too?"

At the unexpected question, they all turned to see Fitz standing in the doorway, barefoot, in jeans and a sweatshirt.

Olivia stood up, smiling, "Come join us. What can I get you?"

He crossed to her with a wicked smile, then sliding an arm around her, he sat down in her chair and pulled her onto his lap. "I've got what I want."

There was loud slurping from around the table.

Olivia chuckled, sliding her arms around Fitz's shoulders and leaning her head against his. "The children at the table want us to behave."

"I'm not promising anything," Fitz muttered, linking his hands on her hip. "So back to my question –do you have to go?"

"Nope; nu-uh; we're good; she can stay," came the chorus of dissent.

Then they all fell silent, with Fitz looking at OPA and the associates looking back at him.

"Don't let me stop you from talking about your plans."

"With all due respect, sir," Harrison looked around the table, then back at Fitz. "We can't do that. I know you're Liv's..."

"Man," Fitz said helpfully.

"Yeah, that's it. Anyway, what we end up doing could cross the line, and you're the President."

"Don't worry. I won't have you arrested."

"No, but if _we_ get caught, _you'll_ be an accessory or at the very least, a material witness."

Olivia got to her feet. "Say goodnight, Mr President."

"Goodnight, Mr President," OPA chorused, making Fitz chuckle as Olivia led him out of the kitchen.

* * *

**A/N: THANK YOU for alerting me to the 'Darby' error! I corrected it. And just so you know, I wrote an entire draft chapter with ****_Harrison _****as ****_Columbus_**** before realising my mistake! Anyway appreciate the alert :))))**

**So in case you haven't noticed I've been stalling about the Mellie reveal - because I couldn't decide what it should be - so many horrors to choose from. **

**Actually, my first idea turned out to be improbable on further research. Well, yesterday, after eating a bag of chips, three grapes, and a chocolate-covered almond, then going for a walk that burned off exactly one chip, I managed to find a more reasonable alternative...**

**The bad news is... I won't be able to tell you tomorrow (i.e there'll be no update) because I have to take a break from my ****_break-from-work_**** and go to a work-related thing in the realm of UGH!**

**But I promise not to leave you hanging on the Ceiling-of-****_What?!,_**** waiting for the Ladder-of-****_When?!,_**** for too long...:))))**


	21. Making a Case

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But #WhoDatWomanOfTheYear **

* * *

It was late morning when Olivia made her way downstairs; showered, her hair unpressed; wearing jeans, a thick sweater and ugg boots.

She glanced through the windows to see a few agents chatting in front of their parked vehicles. Then smiled a greeting at the agents setting the table for breakfast before making her way to the kitchen to find it a hive of activity – Tom making eggs and bacon on the stove; Karen popping bread into the toaster; Jerry flipping pancakes from an electric skillet while Peter and another agent were cutting fruit. Lastly her gaze rested on Fitz, sitting at the kitchen table feeding Teddy.

"Hey, beautiful, you're awake," Fitz grinned, giving her a sexy smile that made her toes curl.

The kids turned, then swarmed around Olivia for a hug before dispersing just as quickly back to their tasks.

"You let me sleep in," Olivia grumbled moving across to Fitz, sliding a hand across his shoulders as she dropped a kiss on Teddy's head, then leaned against the man who had made her scream in the early hours of that morning.

"You needed it, after our busy night," he chuckled softly, slyly nuzzling his face into the side of her breast.

Blushing, she eased away and slid into a chair, not close to Fitz, propping her elbows on the table so she could cover her hot cheeks with her hands. "What can I do?"

"Distract Teddy while I feed him his cereal."

"Where's Cyrus?"

"He left about an hour ago."

"Did my guys leave with him?"

"No, Tom said they left soon after we went to bed."

Olivia, who'd started to drop her hands from her cheeks, hastily used them as a coverup again.

He grinned, unrepentant.

"Behave," she muttered

"Make me."

"Do you want me to smack him, Aunt Liv?" Jerry paused on his way to the dining room with a fruit platter.

"Uh, no," Olivia got to her feet, pretending to ignore Fitz's wicked little smirk, even while her hand trailed over his arm on her way past him. "Do you want me to take that, Jer?"

"No, I've got it. But Abby left you a note on the oven, saying there's leftover pumpernickel bread in the pantry. You can get that if you want."

"Aww, don't leave," Fitz mocked softly in the background.

Not looking at him, she patted her ass and walked away, smiling as his snicker of laughter reached her.

* * *

Distracted by the laughter and chatter at breakfast, Olivia made an effort to forget about the waiting game that was worrying her.

That was easily done on their day trip to the ski slopes where the men and boys showed off their skill, while she, Karen and baby Teddy built snowmen and tobogganed on snow powder drifts.

Exhausted but happy at the end of the day, she hugged an arm around Fitz who was carrying Teddy. "That was fun."

His soft gaze drifted over her face, lingering on her smile. "We can do it again tomorrow—"

"Daddy, who is that man?" Karen jerked to a halt, holding Olivia's hand, making them all stop and stare towards the house.

Despite the early evening shadows, Olivia recognised the defensive stance of David Rosen standing on the front porch with two agents on either side.

"Can you tell these goons that I'm a friend," David said drily as they approached.

"It's okay, Ari and Youssef, we know him." Still holding Karen's hand, Olivia walked towards David and directed him indoors.

"Nice," said David, his gaze wandering over the stone and wood interior before settling on the bright flames crackling in the handcrafted fieldstone fireplace.

"Mind if I?" Not waiting for consent, David went closer to warm his hands by the fire.

"You can pull up a chair." Olivia told him.

"Oh, great. Can I take off my coat?"

Olivia took the coat, asking, "So what did Mellie want?"

David paused, half way to being seated. "Oh you know about that?"

"We know about that."

Changing his mind about sitting, David straightened and looked beyond Olivia to their audience of Fitz, the children and agents, including the two who had been 'guarding' him outside.

"Can I have a word alone with Olivia?"

"No," Fitz and Jerry said at once.

David glanced from Fitz to his son, then back again. "What I have to say involves your wife, and I don't think you want your kids to hear the unedited version."

Fitz glanced at Olivia, then handed Teddy over to Jerry and led the way to the study.

"What did Mellie want?" Olivia asked as soon as they were seated, with Fitz close beside her on the sofa and David facing them in an armchair.

"I'm guessing she hasn't come onboard this great Titanic love story of yours that's grabbed everyone's attention. She's really gunning for you, Liv."

"I know. But how has she involved you?"

"She wanted to know her options. She had some idea that she could sue her husband for a breach of contract – a breach of the marriage contract."

"She's seeking damages? That's what I'm expecting our lawyers to negotiate, once she signs an acknowledgement of the petition."

"She isn't seeking damages. She wants Specific Performance."

"What?" Fitz frowned. "Is that a joke?"

"Wait, she wants Fitz to complete the marriage contract by staying with her?" Olivia asked sat forward.

"Until Death. I'm assuming a natural death, not the other kind."

"But that's ridiculous; no judge or jury in this country is going to demand that I stay married to that woman! The case will get thrown out of court if she tries to make that claim under contract law!"

"That's what I told her – that it's beyond the powers of my office, with its meagre resources to manage current caseloads, to even consider putting in the kind of work a case like this needs. A case that would attempt to set legal precedent by considering a marriage contract in a business context, rather than a social one. You need a lot of time and money to run a case like that, time and money that we at the public defender's office in the District of Columbia do not have."

He looked expectantly at Fitz, who ignored the dig. Eventually David continued, "I wasn't expecting Mrs Grant to ask about Specific Performance. Is she an aficionado of Contract Law?"

"She studied law at college."

"Huh, I did hear that she went to one of the Ivy League schools – Yale or Harvard?"

"Yeah," Fitz muttered absently, then focused his narrowed gaze on the other man. "So this is dead in the water? Mellie has decided to drop this and leave us alone?"

"I can't say for sure but as she was throwing me out of your lovely beach house with ocean views, she got a call from someone in North Carolina."

"North Carolina? She interned at a law firm there after she graduated. Got the job through a family connection - her maternal grandparents. They even left her some property in that state."

"Does she still own the land?"

"I believe so."

"Huh, well if that's the only connection and you feel there's nothing more you should worry about..."

But he never got to finish as Karen interrupted with a knock on the door. "Aunt Liv, Harrison is on the phone. He wants to talk to you," she said, handing Olivia her cell phone.

* * *

"Harrison, David is here in Vermont."

"We know, Liv. Abby's GPS."

"Right, of course," Olivia moved farther away from David. Then hearing flights details being called in the background , she asked, "Are you guys at the airport? Are you on your way back here?"

"No, we're on our way to North Carolina and I think you really need to get your ass over there too."

"What's the problem?"

"I got word from a guy I know at the Charlotte Observer. There's a rumour flying around about the First Lady filing a lawsuit." Harrison paused, before continuing in a lowered tone, "It's against you, Liv. She's making a claim of Alienation of Affection and seeking compensation of a billion dollars."

* * *

**A/N: Oh how I wish I had paid more intention to Mellie's background - she grew up in NORTH CAROLINA, people! The Numero Uno state for Alienation of Affection cases and I went and put her in Virginia. Writing Regret #9356778986054321122. **

**Never mind, I'll just use my heat-stroke suffering imagination to make a dubious link between Mellie and NC. When I didn't have to ! #!%^! (BTW, it's 40-degrees outside and combustible inside).**

**Anyway, I never thought I'd ever be grateful that Britain invaded half the world - but in writing this story I appreciated that the basics of contract law I learned here in Australia applies more or less to the US, thanks to English Common Law (except in the state of Louisiana - which inherited French and Spanish law, as per Wikipedia).**

**BTW, who knew I'd paid enough attention to this stuff in class (part of an ongoing accounting course); or that I would actually find a use for it - in the revival of my Right Brain! I'm sure my tutors would be gratified :))) Seriously tho': not gratified at how far I've stretched the limits of Specific Performance. **

**Other offences committed in the telling of this story: jurisdiction when both plaintiff and defendant are non-residents; etcetera, etcetera, etcetera (in the upcoming chapters) Please find factual info in the links below. Info which I have crudely hashed/mashed and trashed ... Right about now, I wish I'd paid more attention to David E Kelly's legal dramas and every episode of ****_Law & Order_****.**

**FYI snuck in a bit of Australiana - ugg boots (fleece-lined sheep-skin boots) as they sounded better than thick socks or house shoes - Olivia is way too Q-ule for house shoes, fleece-lined or not.**

**Legal links (and yes, there is a RealLife ROSEN reference, which is why I just had to use alienation of affection stuff after seeing that URL): Insert www. **

**rosen divorce/divorcearticles / alienation-of-affection-and-criminal-conversation/**

**divorcesupport. about od/ statedivorcelaws/a/Comparing-No-Fault-Divorce-Law-And-Contract-Law**

**quickmba law/ sys/**

**hg article. asp ? id =19936**

** www. justanswer. ****1k0q8-alienation-affection-law-used-someone-north**


	22. Storm Clouds

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #VermontAgrees #HappilyEverAfter  
**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Fitz! You can't go to North Carolina!" Olivia sat on his suitcase after realising that simply returning his clothes to the closet wasn't working.

"I'm going with you." He lifted her onto the bed.

"What about the kids, are you going to drag them there to see me have it out with their mother?"

When he paused, Olivia sat up and poked him in the chest. "You didn't think about that, did you? Do you really want to end their Thanksgiving weekend, witnessing a catfight between me and Mellie?"

"I can send them to DC."

"Alone?"

"I'll send them with Tom, and they'll be at the White House, Liv. That's not exactly a deserted island."

"Fitz."

He sighed. "Okay, I'll take the kids and return to DC."

She stood on the bed, to link her arms around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered, kissing him; then smiled against his mouth as his hands slid up her legs, over her hips and under her sweater.

"We don't have time for that right now."

"I didn't want the weekend to end like this." He groaned as his hands fell back to her waist.

"It doesn't have to end," she whispered, cupping his face in both hands. "Not yet. Not for you or the kids. Go skiing tomorrow just like you planned. Have fun. Don't let them get upset about this. And I don't want you to worry either, promise?"

Fitz nodded wearily, exchanging a soft kiss, before lifting her off the bed.

"Do you know how long you'll be down there?" he asked as Olivia resumed her packing.

"No, all I know is that I have to find a NC-registered attorney to file an injunction."

* * *

Thursday evening, the OPA sat in Olivia's hotel room, watching her pace the floor.

"It's not all bad." Olivia tried to sound positive.

"It's worse than bad," Abby disagreed.

"Worse than worse," Quinn murmured.

"Anyone of us could have done a better job than that ambulance chaser." Harrison shook his head in disgust.

"Even me," Huck muttered.

"Are you sure that guy's a registered attorney? He hasn't been struck off?"

"No, and he was the best I could find at short notice. I don't have a lot of contacts in this part of the world."

"He was crap. The injunction failed and now they've expedited the hearing on Mellie's claim."

"And he couldn't even handle the pre-trial motion to get the claim dismissed on the fact that Liv never has and never will live in North Carolina."

"Everyone is sensing the trial of the century. And they don't want to lose the bait."

"Then it's essential we find another lawyer for you."

"The kind of lawyer that listens to his client, when the client knows more than he does."

"A black lawyer," Harrison stressed.

"What has colour got to do with anything?" Abby frowned. "We just need him or her to be good at his or her job."

"Abs, this is North Carolina."

"I'm confused," Quinn frowned.

"This is Don Yelton's state. You know the GOP ex-chairman who quit his job after going on _The Daily Show_ and telling everyone he didn't care if North Carolina's new Voter ID law hurts a 'bunch of lazy blacks who want the government to give them everything'."

"But what has that got to do with Liv?" Quinn frowned.

"White wife, black mistress."

"Harrison!" A couple of cushions landed on him. "Olivia is right here."

"Hey, it's nothing Liv hasn't heard before. And she'll hear some really nasty shit when the trial starts. The media here has already tagged the wife as their homegirl because she worked three days in this state, twenty-something years ago."

"That's more a family connection thing, than anything else," Quinn shrugged. "It's not about, you know, that _other thing_."

Harrison rolled his eyes and looked at Olivia, who resumed her pacing.

"Do you want me to put a fake licence in the system, so you can represent Olivia?" Huck asked.

"No!" Olivia stopped mid-stride, then frowned at her associates when they remained silent. "Guys?"

"Not just yet."

"Hold that thought."

"Maybe as a last resort."

"Guys!"

"Okay, no, Huck, don't do that."

"Yeah, great idea, but bad. Very bad."

"Don't do it. Unless we really have no other choice."

Shaking her head Olivia shooed everyone out of her room, telling them to pack as they had a flight to catch in the morning.

* * *

The next morning the OPA walked out of Dulles airport to find the Presidential Limousine and a retinue of secret service vehicles waiting for Olivia outside the terminal, along with a bank of paparazzi and other assorted media.

"Man, does he have it bad,"

"All he's missing is a brass band."

"And a big neon sign of a love heart."

"He's double parked."

The other three looked at Huck, then shook their heads and headed off to the daily parking zone to collect their vehicles.

Left on her own, Olivia ignored the cameras and greeted the agents who took her bag and held the passenger door open for her.

"Very subtle, Fitz," Olivia murmured, once she got into the car, feeling her heart lift at the sight of Fitz wearing one of his usual suits, striped tie, her flag pin and a face-splitting grin. Then gasped as he hauled her into his arms and smothered her face with kisses.

"I missed you," he groaned much later, as he settled her more comfortably on his lap, running his hands over her as if to make sure she was really there.

"I was gone for less than a week."

"Don't talk about it. It still hurts."

He captured her mouth again, making her forget all her good intentions. The ones she'd made that morning. The ones she believed were wise to keep...Wen Fitz began a trail of kisses along her jaw, she brought her hands up to his face and held him back. "Have you forgotten that your wife—"

"Ex-wife."

"Your not-yet ex-wife, is suing me for Alienation of Affection. Do you really need to give her more proof?"

His smile fading, Fitz narrowed his gaze. "Where are you going with this?"

"I'm just stating the facts as they will be presented in court, you're still married and we're—"

"In love."

"—making Mellie's case with the media as her witnesses."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Maybe we should stop seeing each other until the case is over."

"No."

"Fitz."

"No." He shifted off his lap to sit beside him. "It would be pointless now to try and hide our relationship. It won't change the facts — not for Mellie's case, not for your defence. There has never been genuine love or affection between me and Mellie."

"You have three children."

With a wry lift of his brow, Fitz said, "They're going to have to do better than that."

"They most likely will. Her lawyers are very good."

"You didn't use any of the names I gave you."

"Fitz, I'm going to handle this. Alone."

"Why?"

"Because things are going to get ugly."

"That's not a reason."

"It's a very good reason."

"You're running."

"I'm not running!"

"You're running."

"I am not running! Stop saying that! I'm just saying that you should consider what would happen if things get ugly, and I lose. You know it won't help your chances for a second term and just think of what it will do to the kids."

When he didn't respond, she murmured, "Fitz..." and reached for his hand, but he slid it out of reach.

"You're mad at me."

"Yes."

"How mad? Do you want to yell at me?" she teased, but when he just stared at her in stony silence, she sighed. "I love you."

"Convince me; stop running, Olivia and show me that you do. That's all I'm asking — if you love me, stop running."

Olivia stared at him, at a loss to explain that she'd been thinking of him and the kids; that she wasn't running; reasons which he was obviously in no mood to listen.

They didn't talk the rest of the way to her office and when Olivia stepped out of the car, Fitz closed the door with a slam and the car drove away while she still stood on the kerb.

* * *

Damn him! Olivia thought to herself as she got out of the elevator. Then stopped when she saw Harrison, Abby and Quinn waiting for her in the entryway.

"What's going on?"

"You have a visitor."

"Is he armed and dangerous?"

"Worse."

"What?! Where is he?"

"In your office, Huck's...looking...after him."

Olivia hurried towards her office but came to an abrupt halt, feeling as if she'd stepped off a cliff.

She knew the man standing with his back to the door, looking at the pictures behind her desk. She knew the way he stood, the hands clasped behind his back, even after all these years, she knew without a doubt...

"Dad...?"

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, I couldn't resist. But this isn't Spy Dad. That's all I can say. :))))) But I'm sure you'll guess the connection ;)**

**BTW, Don Yelton is a real person. And I lifted that quote off one of many articles regarding his appearance on _The Daily Show_  
**

**And you guys are GOOD! Figuring out where I'm going with Alienation of Affection - Love it! :))))**

**A billion dollars sounds a bit much, doesn't it? But according to info on the _McilveenFamilyLaw_ website (by Angela McIlveen): In 2010, a Guilford County jury awarded $9 million to an 'innocent spouse'; then in 2011, a Wake Country superior Court Judge ordered $30 million for an 'innocent wife'. Both cases were Alienation of Affection cases in North Carolina. So I figured Mellie would ask for at least a billion since I don't think she's the type of person to demand ****_Quantum Meruit_**** (reasonable amount – paraphrased from _The Free Dictionary_). **

**Also apologies for fudging the time span for injunction and pre trial motion to less than a week. No idea how long these things actually take. **


	23. Daddy Dearest

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ: Life, Liberty and the ****_Pursuit of Happyness_**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Rowan Pope turned, his mouth curling up in a dry smile.

"Olivia, I'm surprised you recognised me."

Olivia dumped her bag and coat onto a chair, then stood glaring at her father, her arms crossed over her chest. "What are you doing here, Dad?"

"I am visiting my daughter, Olivia, my only child the one I haven't seen in twelve years."

"You just dropped by after twelve years to say hello."

"Yes, I believe I have waited long enough for you to make the effort."

Rowan glanced around at the associates, and smirked, "I see that you've held on to your merry band of comrades. It's good to know you haven't cut all ties with your past."

"Are you dying?" Olivia blurted suddenly, feeling ridiculously young even as she voiced the question; a feeling that heightened when Rowan gave his infamous Grinch smile.

"My dear Olivia, I am not dying nor am I in a 12-step treatment programme for addiction. Is it too difficult for you to believe that a man would want to see his daughter after all this time for the simple reason that he missed her?"

"You mean you missed going at her with your sarcastic put-downs?" Abby glared at Rowan.

"Yeah, you were always on Liv's case about everything." Harrison frowned.

"But the Sunday dinners were okay. I liked the food," Huck offered.

Only Quinn remained silent, her watchful gaze shifting from father to daughter and back again. Then they all stepped closer to Olivia as Rowan said coldly, "As much as I have enjoyed reacquainting myself with Olivia's strays, I am here to see my daughter. She and I have a lot of catching up to do, and I would like to do that without an audience."

No one budged, until Olivia said quietly, "It's okay. I'll handle this."

With apparent reluctant, the associates filed out of the room but went no further than the outer limits to Olivia's office where they stood in a circle looking through the glass panelling.

Inside the room, Olivia sat down, reminding herself that she was an adult. After a moment, Rowan took the seat opposite.

There was a moment's silence as father and daughter eyed each other like combatants in a ring, then Rowan's expression softened. "How have you been, Olivia?"

"I've been okay, Dad." She paused, then smiled. "I'm aware that you have been doing well – you're part of the Emeritus Faculty of Cornell Law School; and you're still making waves with your analyses in the Journal of Empirical Legal Studies." Then she angled her chin, and asked sweetly, "And how is Felicia?"

Rowan's Grinch smile returned in full force. "Olivia, it warms my heart to know that you have kept yourself informed about a man you clearly despise. And it is a pleasure for me to tell you how gratified I am to see my brilliant daughter surpass all my expectations, by becoming a slick Crisis Manager and the mistress of the President of the United States."

* * *

Fitz stepped out of the elevator at Olivia Pope and Associates, with a handful of agents following close behind. He made his way to Olivia's office, then stopped at the sight the associates standing in a semi-circle observing the occupants inside.

"What's going on?"

The associates spared him a glance before returning their attention to the occupants in the room.

"Olivia's dad is here," Abby muttered.

"Rowan Pope, the Law Professor?"

"Retired," Harrison said shortly.

"Why is he here?"

"We don't know," Quinn gave him a brief smile. "He threw us out."

"But we didn't go far because we don't trust him," Huck said grimly.

In the next instant, Fitz had walked into the office, not even bothering to knock.

"Fitz!" Olivia jumped to her feet, after a quick glance over her shoulder at the interruption.

"The man of the hour," Rowan said coldly remaining seated.

"Mr Pope, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." Fitz extended his hand, which Rowan shook briefly before saying, "Mr Grant, my daughter and I were having a private conversation."

"So I heard." Fitz turned to Olivia. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, another protector much braver than the rest. But I would still like you to leave."

"No." Fitz reached for Olivia's hand. "I'd like to know why you are here."

Rowan's eyes rose from their clasped hands to meet Fitz's steady gaze. "Olivia, would you please step out of the room."

"Why?" Olivia shifted closer to Fitz.

"I need to speak to Mr Grant, alone."

"No."

Giving Olivia's hand a gentle squeeze, Fitz said evenly, "What would like to say to me, Mr Pope?"

"I have come to help my daughter defeat that frivolous claim in North Carolina. Mr Grant – the case that has been brought against Olivia by your wife."

"I don't need your help, Dad."

"Then, Mr Grant, you and I need to take a walk. We need to give my daughter enough time to see the futility of her stubbornness; and to realise, with what little sense she still possesses, that she does in fact need my help."

* * *

Instead of a walk, they ended up in the Presidential Limousine driving through the city streets, until Fitz would give the order to stop.

The silence stretched to awkwardness, but Fitz made no attempt to break it until Rowan bit out coldly, "You are not the man I had envisioned for my daughter."

"Because I'm married?"

"Because you are white."

"You have a problem because I'm white? Do you think she'll be happier with someone else for the simple fact that he is black?"

"Please, Mr Grant, I'm neither naive, nor parochial. But it is naive of you to assume that my daughter will never have to justify herself for the duration of your relationship; that she will never be asked why she, as a mere black woman, is worthy of being loved by a white man. And not just any white man but the man who some regard as the 'Leader of the Free World'."

"This is my day job, Mr Pope. It doesn't define me as a man nor the woman I love."

"Sadly, Mr Grant, it is your very whiteness that guaranteed your rise and acceptance as the ideal man for the job. You are a man with the privilege of choice, you can choose to be President; you can choose to make any woman your wife. Now you have chosen to take my daughter as your lover." Rowan paused, then added sternly, "And as her father, I don't want people speculating on the secrets of the universe that Olivia possesses to attract a man such as yourself."

"Is this another Sally Hemings–Thomas Jefferson reference?"

"No, Mr Grant, this is to point out why you needed to make a statement to the American People saying my daughter is not your whore."

Fitz eyed Rowan grimly. "That accusation was out there in the public sphere, all I did was counter it."

"But the way you chose to defend my daughter invites judgement as to the kind of woman she is – 'here is Ms Olivia Pope a worthy member of society; she pays her taxes, employs people and does good deeds. And while she is not above committing adultery, may I emphasise that she is highly selective in the scope of her sexuality – Olivia Pope has only slept with two men in ten years; that, my fellow Americans, is almost_ celibate _in comparison to the national average'."

Fitz felt his face heat. "I didn't consider it on those terms."

"You, young man, have not considered the situation on any terms other than the fact that you desire my daughter and you will have her, damn the consequences."

"I love your daughter, sir, as she loves me."

"And that is the tragedy, young man. Your love story which has caught our country's imagination is encumbered by consequences you cannot even grasp. Right now, you are basking in the glow of public appreciation for the way Olivia stood up to a hate group, and the way you stood up to your wife, who clearly hates my daughter. But that honeymoon will end. Then this conservative, God-fearing country of ours will wonder whether an adulterer should aspire to the highest office in the land and be fit to govern our great moral nation, with the lover he cannot marry by his side."

Fitz unclenched his jaw, and muttered, "I will marry Olivia."

"Permission denied!"

"I do not need your permission, sir, it is Olivia that I will be marrying."

Rowan almost smiled. "Yes, it is true, my daughter is an adult which gives her the freedom to make her own mistakes; even ones that can easily be seen as train wrecks from a great distance."

Fitz exhaled slowly. "Have you ever been in love?"

"What?"

"Have you ever been in love, sir?"

"In love or have I loved? I love my daughter, Mr Grant."

"And you would do anything for her, which includes berating the man she loves, for loving her."

Ignoring Rowan's quick frown, Fitz continued, "You want what's best for your daughter. I get that because that's what I want too."

"Then give her up, Mr Grant. Let her find a man with whom she doesn't have to justify her very existence, with whom she doesn't have to prove her worthiness."

"Olivia doesn't have to do either of those things with me. The simple fact is she exists, and her worth is beyond measure. When she's with me, I have never asked myself 'is _she_ worthy of me'; my question has always been 'am _I_ worthy of her'."

"You are not."

"I'm glad someone else sees that."

There was a small silence as the tension in the air eased although neither man acknowledged it. After a while Fitz continued, "So there you have it, sir – in all my unworthiness and in all her worthiness, Olivia loves me and I love her. We are not martyrs to a cause. We are a man and a woman who have come together, to just be. And that, Mr Pope, is what I intend to keep doing, with or without your permission."

This time the silence stretched even longer, then Rowan Pope focused a neutral gaze on Fitz and said, "Mr Grant, tell me what you know about your wife. Everything you know about her…"

* * *

**A/N: So this whole Mellie case was just a way to get Dad into the picture. And I've drawn on Joe Morton's portrayal for dialogue inspiration – except he's not a spy but a law professor. (Not really into espionage – the only reason I watched ****_Alias_**** was for the romance between Michael Vartan and Jennifer Garner. Also Olivia's Mommy dearest is not a terrorist, she is simply dead, but I haven't got to that part yet.)**

**Seriously – I can never say this enough – THANK YOU for reading, I mean it. And this story has been brought to you by Google search, Wikipedia, and 100,000 bits of information in this galaxy of wonders that is the World Wide Web (pause to appreciate Tim Berners-Lee). **

**Plus, it's great writing about the US because someone over there has answered every single question I've had; what's a bedside table called in America; what's the Presidential daily schedule like; what kind of snow can you toboggan on; etc – it's just bliss!**

**BTW, you have just finished the second version of this chapter. I had a technical difficulty with the first (I forgot to save it) and this is the result after I went through the five stages of grief:**

**1. Whaaaaaat? **

**2. WTF, Computer, what do you mean: No Temp File! **

**3. Chocolate slab or Tumblr porn as a distraction? Hmmm… choices, choices**

**4. I will stay in bed forever; I can't write it again**

**5. Rewrite**

**Got to go, I need more chocolate after re-living that experience...**


	24. Entree Main Dessert

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE…..**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

His step was steady as he made his way back to Olivia Pope and Associates. Olivia pace was agitated as she circled her office, with the associates watching from the meeting room, pretending to be busy on their laptops.

She stopped pacing when he walked in, leaving his agents outside.

"Hi," he said, closing the door.

"Where's my father?"

"He's in Virginia, being interrogated at the CIA headquarters in Langley."

"Fitz."

"I left him at the hotel. We'll be meeting him later for dinner."

"We?"

"We: you, me, your father and Felicia."

"He brought _that _woman here?!"

A smile ghosted his lips. "She's his partner, Liv. Your dad wants all of us to get acquainted."

"I am not having dinner with _him_ or with _her_!"

"Okay, I'll let your father know he needs to change the reservation to three."

"You are not going."

"I am."

"No, you are not!"

"Olivia, your father has invited me to dinner and I'm going."

"So you're friends now?!"

"No, we're negotiating a truce, and dinner is part of that process."

When Olivia glared at him, he responded with a bland smile, but she knew from the look in his eyes that he was enjoying this. "Fine."

"Fine?"

"Fine."

"So we're going to dinner?"

"We're going to dinner."

"Ready to leave now, so you can get changed?"

Olivia collected her bag and coat and walked towards the door, but when Fitz reached for her hand, she jerked out of his grasp.

"I am going to my apartment to change and I'll take my own car."

"Livvie..."

"I'm taking my own car, Fitz. That way, if you get mad over something I say, I won't be left stranded on the kerb."

"I didn't leave you stranded."

"What. Ever," she tossed over her shoulder. Then walked out, wishing her associates and his agents goodnight.

* * *

When Olivia entered the restaurant, she had no trouble finding their table – it was the only one occupied at the entire venue.

As she approached, the men stood while the slim, dark woman with close- cropped white hair remained seated, only acknowledging Olivia's arrival with a cool smile.

"Olivia."

"Felicia."

"Hello, Dad." Father and daughter shook hands. Then Olivia made to sit down with a glancing smile at Fitz, ignoring how good he looked in a grey suit and dark shirt, but he had other ideas.

"You're breathtaking," he whispered, placing a lingering kiss below her ear, and Olivia shivered as his fingers feathered down her bare arm to link hands as they sat down.

Briefly, Olivia wished she'd worn a long-sleeved thick woollen dress instead of the sleeveless, silk sheath, the same shade of cream as the roses in the table centrepiece. Then realised even a tent wouldn't have prevented Fitz from stoking a slow fire as his knee pressed into hers and stayed.

"So have you decided to accept my offer?" Rowan got straight to the point.

"Can we not talk about this now?" Olivia glanced at Felicia.

"Felicia is aware of what's going on, and you, my dear daughter, don't have any time to waste."

"You cannot practice in North Carolina."

"Ah, but I have a former student over there who is happy to act on my instructions."

Olivia scowled. "I haven't decided."

"Decide now. I'll wait."

"No," she muttered, then felt every tense muscle turn to mush as Fitz rubbed circles on her palm with his thumb.

She slid a glance at him and he smiled, leaning close to brush a kiss on her lips. Then they both turned as Rowan Pope cleared his throat.

"Mr Grant, I expect certain rules of etiquette to be observed at the table."

"He doesn't like public displays of affection during dinner. Only sarcasm and mockery are allowed," Olivia murmured, seeing a fierce scowl descend on her father's face while Felicia's gaze remained glued to the menu.

Unfazed by her advice, Fitz leaned forward and brushed another kiss across her mouth, then drew back to face Rowan. "Olivia hasn't had enough time to digest everything that's happened today. You walked into her life after 12 years, Mr Pope. She needs time to get used to the idea."

"I will expect a response by 10AM tomorrow."

Olivia shifted back, letting go of Fitz's hand as the sommelier came round the table to pour wine.

As the night progressed, conversation ebbed and flowed.

During the entree, Fitz and her father talked about the situation in South Sudan; Felicia asked Olivia if she had any natural hair left under her weave, to which Olivia replied she didn't wear a weave and reached for her wine glass.

When the main meal was served, Fitz and her father had moved onto Supreme Court rulings on the First Amendment; while Olivia asked Felicia if she still served her vegetarian 'meat' loaf for Thanksgiving and Felicia replied that she and Rowan had marched with the Native Americans of New England to mark The National Day of Mourning.

By the time dessert was served, Fitz and her father were discussing the ethics of clay pigeon shooting over live duck hunting; while Felicia spooned her creme brulee through pursed lips and Olivia stabbed at her raspberry sorbet.

They didn't stay for coffee after Felicia pleaded a headache, and Olivia was relieved she hadn't needed to use that lie herself as the other couple hurried away.

"That went well," Fitz murmured, a glimmer of a smile on his lips.

Olivia simply glared at him and wished the valet would hurry up with her car.

"Livvie," he murmured, sliding an arm around her waist and bringing her to lean against him. "Let me take you home. One of the guys can drive your car."

"No."

He smiled, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Okay, then you can drive me home and the guys will follow us."

"No."

Fitz gave a husky laugh, his breath feathering her neck, but he drew back sharply when she muttered, "I'm going back to my apartment. I'm staying there tonight. Alone."

"Olivia."

"Goodnight, Fitz." She glared at him, then dredged up a smile for the valet along with a tip, before walking out of the restaurant.

* * *

Olivia had just finished brushing her teeth, after a warm relaxing shower, when she noticed that she'd left the lights on.

Wearing an over-sized Navy sweatshirt and nothing else, she padded barefoot to the living room to find Fitz sitting on the couch and the door to her apartment wide open.

"I didn't give you a key," she said.

"I know."

"Fitz, you can't just break into my apartment."

"I just did."

Olivia went over to the door to see the lock dismantled, and the sheepish grins of the agents standing in the entry hall. Shaking her head, she reached for her phone.

"Are you calling the police?" Fitz raised a brow.

"I'm calling the Building Super. He needs to put in another lock. I can't sleep in here knowing anyone can just walk in."

"By _anyone,_ you mean the President of the United States."

"Yes, him."

Fitz got off the couch and took the phone out of her hand, disconnecting the call.

"I've already sent one of the guys to get you another lock, and someone will stay here until the lock has been replaced."

When she just stared at him, he prompted, "Say thank you."

"You broke into my apartment."

"I'm fixing the lock."

"Thank you and goodnight." She made to walk past him, but he slid his arm around her waist and brought her close.

"I'm not going anywhere unless you go with me, Liv."

Olivia glared at him, but his steady gaze didn't waver. She sighed. "I need to change."

"No," he murmured.

"Fitz, I'm not wearing…" She stopped, seeing his gaze darken fiercely, but he didn't say a word as he abruptly shrugged out of his coat and wrapped it around her, before doing up the buttons all the way up to the collar.

"Better?"

When she didn't respond, he bent low to kiss her mouth but she averted her face.

"Stubborn," was all he said before picking her up in his arms and carrying her out of the apartment.

Once inside the car, she moved out of his arms and put some space between them. He didn't object or make a move to hold her back, but she felt him staring at her, while she stared out of the window all the way to the White House.

"I can walk," she huffed when Fitz told her to wait in the car until he came over to her side.

"I can carry," he murmured, lifting Olivia up into his arms, and pressing a smiling kiss to her lips.

He only set her on her feet once he reached their bedroom.

"Look at me," he whispered, unbuttoning his coat, while she stared into space, to the side.

"No."

"Livvie..."

"I need to say goodnight to the kids." She stepped out of reach once he taken off the coat.

"You said goodnight to them from the restaurant."

"Now I can say goodnight in person," she tossed as she padded out the room.

"They're asleep, Liv!" He called after her, but she didn't respond. Then found out for herself that he was correct - the kids were fast asleep and she tiptoed out of their rooms, not wishing to disturb them. But as she left Teddy's room, the sight of several closed doors along the corridor made her pause, then change direction completely.

It took Fitz exactly twenty minutes to find her in one of the guest bedrooms, curled up under the covers, the Navy sweatshirt folded carefully on top of a chair.

"Cute," he muttered, approaching the bed. Then without another word, he picked her up, along with the blankets and carried her back to their room.

"In future," he rasped, standing her on the bed. "It would help if you synchronise the times you get mad with me to the times I get mad at you. FYI, I was mad at you this afternoon."

Olivia used the height to poke him in the chest. "You don't get to tell me when I can get mad at you! The time, the date, the place are my prerogative!"

His gaze dropped to her chest and he reached out to tug the edge of the blanket down further. "Keep talking."

Fuming, Olivia yanked the blanket up to cover her exposed breasts and poked him in the chest again. "Eyes front and centre, Navy Boy!"

He raised a brow. "Wow, Livvie, you sound just like your dad."

"Ugh!" She shoved him, nearly toppling off the bed. "Take that back!"

"No." He grinned.

"Fitz!"

"No!" He laughed, catching her in his arms just as she tried to push him again, then tumbled them onto the bed before rolling on top of her.

As she tried to get her breath back, Fitz lifted a hand to brush her hair off her face. "You have been gone for four days, nine hours, 32 minutes and 18 seconds. I missed you," he whispered, kissing the tip of her nose.

He waited. "…Livvie, say you missed me."

"Apologise for saying I'm like my dad."

"You did sound like your dad." His lips brushed her mouth. "Now kiss me."

"No."

"Kiss me..."

"No..."

Then she gave a soft moan as his tongue played along the seam of her reluctant smile.

"I hate you," she sighed, just before his mouth covered hers, and his soft laugh rumbled through her parting lips.

* * *

**A/N: So yes, a filler while I figure how to frame the courtroom drama…. ! Warning there'll be another one tomorrow.**

**And who is Felicia – well, funny you should ask… all will be revealed. **

**Anyway the name came from some funny Tumblr posts explaining the meaning of '****_bye, Felicia'_****. Apparently, that's the pits in a hierarchy of put-downs; way lower than asking '****_who is you'_****. **

**At least if someone says '****_who is you'_**** they actually want to know ****_who_**** is the****_ you_**** that dared give your two cents about shit you know nothing about; whereas '****_bye, Felicia'_**** means they can't be bothered finding out your real name before they kick you out (as in ****_my name is not Felicia; I don't care, goodbye Felicia!)_****. **

**(Tumblr writers, thank you – this is one of a zillion gems I have collected since I began stalking your Scandal blogs a year ago.)**


	25. PreTrial Motions

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4Life #VermontJAM **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

_"The countdown has begun, peeps, and it ain't the Twelve Days of Christmas. We've got a championship fight between two heavyweights – there's our main man's missus in one corner and his new love in the other – who'll win the title? I'll let you know the second that verdict is in, 'cuz I've got front row seats to that show. And that ain't all, I've been checking out real estate listings down in North Carolina too. You know why? I'll tell you why – we've got two lawyers in the ring, peeps. That right, two lawyers that have the potential to make this short story a damn War & Peace saga – you know why I'm saying. Yeah, we could grow old and die before we get a verdict, like that splitsville case between those damn law professors in Cincinnati, Ohio. That's been dragging on for 17 years..." _

_"It's an epic battle, ladies and gentlemen. Let me tell you how epic this is, my Pop – who hasn't been this interested in a court case since Muhammad Ali's Greatest Fight – has cancelled his golfing holiday to fly over to North Carolina. And he's been calling me with updates for a case that hasn't even started...Reminds of when I wagged school so we could stand in front of the Supreme Court steps to hear the verdict on Ali's fight with the good old US of A about his Vietnam draft. Yes, Ladies and Gentleman, we waited hours to learn the fate of the man who could 'float like a butterfly and sting like a bee'; the man who didn't want to fight the Vietcong because they had never called him 'nigger', and you know what – The Greatest won that fight. That's right, the United States Supreme Court awarded Mr Ali the championship title in 1971 and my Pop bought me a triple-decker waffle cone..."_

_"Every damn body has got an opinion on this case, I tell ya. Hell, I got into trouble this morning for calling it Catfight Central. Got clocked around the ears by my old lady for disrespecting women. Yeah, I'll be sleeping in the doghouse tonight, folks because my dog's got the couch. And the dang thing ain't even started. But I tell you, Alienation of Affection in this day and age – is that a dumb law or what? It's like getting twenty-five years for cutting down a Saguaro Cactus in Arizona without a permit. Twenty five years for cutting a prickly pear tree, guess the desert heat ain't helping rational judgement in some places, and what about that damn law in North Carolina – clamping down on bingo sessions – a limit of two sessions a week and each session can't last more than five hours. All I want to know is – what do the folks in retirement homes do all day down there?..." _

* * *

A lazy arm curved around Olivia's waist and pulled her back against a warm, male body.

"Good morning..." Fitz whispered huskily in her ear, spooning his body around her.

"Someone's happy to see me," she snuffled a laugh.

"I'm always happy to see you," he smiled, tickling her ear. Then he reached over and switched off the television. "I want no distractions, no interruptions," he said gruffly, placing a line of kisses along her bare shoulder.

She sighed blissfully, lifting her arm to run her fingers through his hair as his hands slid up from her waist.

"What are you going to do?" he asked softly, even as his hands on her breasts were driving her to madness.

"So many wicked things..." she murmured hazily, prompting a laugh.

"Livvie, what are you going to do about your Dad?"

Olivia stopped. "Fitz, I really don't want to talk about my father right now."

"Okay, I'll give you the usual twenty-minute reprieve. Then we talk. You have a 10AM deadline."

"Twenty minutes, that's it?" she turned round to face him, and seeing his wicked grin, she leaned closer and bit his chin playfully. "Naughty."

He rumbled a laugh, capturing her mouth for a kiss, then whispered against her lips. "Let him help you."

"No."

"Livvie..." he cupped her face and kissed her softly, repeatedly. "Let him help."

"I don't like being seduced with an ulterior motive," she sighed, eyes closed.

His smile touched her cheek. "How else can I get you to agree, tell me and I'll do it?"

"Why do you want me to say 'yes'."

"I think Rowan is your best bet, since you won't accept any help from me."

She opened her eyes slowly. "He just makes me feel so..."

"...inadequate?"

A look passed between them.

"You're everything," he whispered, smoothing his hand over the soft swell of her stomach. "He can't take that away from you."

"He can. Without saying a word, he lets me know I haven't done a good job of being twice as good. I feel like a delinquent and I hate it. Hate being that rebellious child around him."

Fitz kissed the side of her neck, her cheek and finally her lips. Then he eased on to his back, shifting her to straddle him. "You're in charge, Livvie, and you get to do what you want."

Arching over him, she gazed down at his soft, tender gaze and she smiled. "I love you."

"I love you."

Then with a soft moan of appreciation, she dropped down to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him, long and passionately.

* * *

"Do you think this is a good idea? He didn't look as if he'd welcome our help," Quinn muttered.

"This isn't about him. This is about Liv. We have to do this – over a cliff, remember?" Harrison glanced at her as they walked down the hotel corridor.

"Are you sure this is the room?" Quinn asked when they were facing a numbered door.

"Yes, I checked the hotel records," Huck said patiently. "This is the room they had their drinks, meals and a spa treatment charged to; and an interstate phone call to North Carolina yesterday."

"But—"

"Lindsay, please, take a chill pill or put your head between your knees, whatever works because you're making me anxious, and I'm never anxious," Abby glared at Quinn.

"Guys, okay? We're doing this." Harrison knocked on a door and waited.

After a few minutes, Rowan Pope swung open the door and frowned. "I didn't order Room Service."

Harrison glanced at the other associates. "If you're going to help Liv, we want to help you because legal jargon alone won't cut it down there."

Rowan eyed him from head to toe, and when back again.

No one moved.

Finally Rowan said evenly. "I was just going down to breakfast with Felicia."

"We can wait in your room until you finish," Huck suggested helpfully, then smiled when Rowan frowned at him.

"Or you can order room service up here while we talk, and Quinn can have breakfast with Felicia," said Abby.

"Why do I have to have breakfast with Felicia?"

"You're a people-pleaser. I'm not."

"That was a compliment, right?" Quinn turned to Huck and Harrison.

Rowan sighed. "All right, I'll order room service and I'll tell Felicia that this Quinn will be baby-sitting her downstairs."

* * *

"What have we got so far on Alienation of Affection?" Jerry looked at his volunteer assistants, Peter and Karen. Teddy was chewing a toy truck.

"Your mom has picked the best State to file her case. They've had heaps of Alienation of Affection cases down there."

"Hey, you're not on Mom's side, okay? Remember, she thought you were a takeout delivery guy."

"I didn't say I'm helping your mom, all I said was she has a good chance of winning in North Carolina."

"We're not going to let that happen, Peter," Karen said solemnly.

"High-five," Jerry held up his hand, then grinned when Teddy slapped his hand along with Karen.

"Okay, now that we're pumped and ready, back to my original question, what have we got?"

"Not a lot, all your Mom has to prove is that she and your dad were happily married and there was 'genuine love and affection' between them. Next, the love and affection was destroyed. Lastly, that it was destroyed by the wrongful and malicious acts of Aunt Liv, who alienated your dad's affection for your mom."

"Dad never kissed Mom the way he kisses Aunt Liv," Karen stated.

"And he smiles all the time now, instead of looking like he's on a timer about to go off," Jerry muttered.

"But your Mom and Dad were you know…" Peter blushed. "…Making your little brother."

Jerry and Karen looked at each other, then all three glanced at Teddy, who had burped.

* * *

**A/N: BTW there really is a long-running divorce case between two law professors. You can read about ****_Epic Divorce Battle: 17-Years and Counting_**** on oplawblog, published Aug 22, 2013 by Timothy P Flynn, and ****_Epic divorce case in Cincinnati strains legal system for 17 years_**** on TheCelebrityCafe website By Nicole Elliott, Aug 17, 2013**

**Details of ****_Muhammad Ali's Greatest Fight (Clay v United States)_**** can be found on Wikipedia and there's also an interview with Ian Wooldridge (1969) on Youtube uploaded by Malcolm X of MalcolmXfiles blogspot. It really is a shame to realise what boxing over the years has done to Muhammad Ali's brain now. **

**And #1 on an article of 5 funny laws posted by lawPivot on August 9, 2012 is about Arizona's cactus law published on the blawg lawpivot, and you can read up on the bingo session restrictions on Law justia website : 2005 North Carolina Code - General Statutes § 14-309.8. Limit on sessions. There's also a disclaimer that this info may not be current or accurate!**

**Thank you for the info on ****_'bye, Felicia'_**** - ha, ha 'nosy crackhead'. I Googled the movie details after your advice and found that ****_Friday_**** was released in 1995 and it starred Ice Cube and Chris Tucker. According to UrbanDictionary, ****_'bye, Felicia'_**** is like ****_twerking_**** trending lately but been around along time. :)))))**

**Oh and MERRY CHRISTMAS to YOUS ALL :)))))))))))))  
**


	26. Evidence

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE….. so there!**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Man, just look at the optics of that – Liv, her dad and the lawyer, all black; Mrs Grant and her ten lawyers, all white. Then we have Olivia's lawyer chick wearing a headscarf. In North Carolina. This is giving me a really bad feeling," Harrison shook his head.

Abby frowned, examining the packed courtroom. "Is that Hollis Doyle, with his five wives? What's he doing here?"

"Who is Hollis Doyle?" Felicia asked Quinn.

"A murderous bastard who deserves to die," Quinn muttered.

"Hollis has a daughter with one ear. She sent the other ear to Olivia," Huck told Felicia.

"I see," Felicia murmured, gathering her shawl closer around her.

"Silence in the court. All stand. The honourable William Denver United States Superior Court Judge of Elven County, North Carolina presiding."

After Mellie's lawyers rattled their names off as the plaintiff's representatives, it was the defence team's turn to identify themselves for the record.

"Ms Sameera Hussein appearing for the defendant, Ms Olivia Pope."

"And is that your father next to you, Ms Hussein, acting as your chaperone in my courtroom?"

"No, your honour, this is Ms Pope's father, Professor Rowan Pope from Cornell University. He is my former law professor and is assisting me with this case."

The judge raised a brow, "Professor Rowan Pope? You write for the Journal of Empirical Legal Studies, sir?"

"I do, your honour."

"Hmm, read your article on lifetime judicial appointments to the US Supreme Court. It was mighty insightful, not a lot in there that I could disagree with."

One of Mellie's lawyer's jumped up, "Sidebar, your honour."

"Well, get on with it."

There was furious whispering from Mellie's lawyers at the Judge's bench, with Ms Hussein present. Then the Judge stood abruptly, "In my chambers!"

After almost an hour, the restless chatter in the courtroom ceased as the two sides re-appeared with a less fractious-looking judge.

"For the folks out here, wondering what all that was about, I have refused a request from the Plaintiff's lawyers to remove myself from this hearing. They reckon I have shown an unfair bias towards the defendant's father. Now I don't see how reading the learned Professor's writing has any relevance, especially as the man ain't appearing for his daughter. And If they're not happy with my ruling, they can take this up on the appeal.

"The plaintiff's side made a second point, and it wasn't the first time I heard it but they feel it worth reminding me of Governor Pat McCrory's ban on considering Sharia Law in North Carolina courts. That one has me scratching my fine head of hair, folks, because it is my understanding that Ms Olivia Pope is not of the Islamic Faith and is not contemplating a conversion during this trial. I believe that is all the objections that were served up in this round. Now where were we?"

* * *

"Madam First Lady, would you care to tell the court how long you have been married?"

"I don't mind at all. My husband, the President of the United States, and I have been married for nearly 22 years. We are… oh I'm sorry, I should say… we _were_ going to celebrate our twenty-second anniversary next March."

"And you have how many children?"

"Three. Jerry is the eldest. He's fourteen and so like his father – such a determined, feisty young man. Then there's our daughter Karen, a darling little girl. She's so precious or I should say 'precocious', at eight years of age. And our youngest is America's baby, little Teddy christened Theodore Wallace Grant, after two great leaders in our political heritage – President Theodore Roosevelt, our 26th President; and Henry A Wallace, our 33rd Vice President."

"And how old is Theodore Wallace Grant?"

"He's eighteen months."

"And when did Ms Pope meet your husband?"

"Four years ago, when she joined my husband's election campaign as a fixer, a kind of glorified trouble-shooter."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Grant, would you mind repeating the length of time that Ms Pope has known your husband?"

"Olivia Pope has known my husband, intimately, for more than 4 years."

"_Intimately _you say; while you and he continued to share the marital bed?"

"It would be impossible to explain Teddy's birth any other way."

"Would defence like to object to this line of questioning, Ms Hussein?"

"No, your honour."

"You sure?"

"Yes, your honour."

"We object, your honour, at this attempt to lead the defence."

"Your objection has been noted, Mr Pentwell."

"Madam First Lady—"

"Do you have to keep calling her that, we get that she's the wife of the President."

"Are you objecting to the accuracy of her title, your honour?"

"Why use three words when two would do?"

"Very well, your honour. _Mrs_ Grant, please tell the court when you found out about said intimacies between your husband and Ms Pope."

"Oh, I knew from the start – a wife always knows these things, but I just turned a blind eye hoping it was just another one of his flings. You know, how women swarm around a powerful, attractive man – bees to honey as they say."

"And when did you know for certain that your husband and Ms Pope had crossed the line from professional to personal in their relationship?"

"I first guessed they were... _seeing_... each other the day I lost my baby. I...miscarried...on the campaign trail from all the stress and I had to...leave...my husband's side to…recover. I understand that immediately after I left... that very night in fact, they ... my husband and Ms Pope..."

"Would you like a moment, Mrs Grant?"

"No, I'm all right. They became...physically intimate...that night. They continued the affair behind my back even after my husband became President and he appointed Ms Pope as the White House Communications Director."

"And this appointment was after the affair had begun?"

"Yes… It was heartbreaking for me to know that all the years I had sacrificed, giving up my career to be at my husband's side…"

"You were a lawyer, Mrs Grant?"

"I was a partner in a law firm; a very successful legal practice."

"And you left that successful career to help your husband with his political ambitions?"

"That is correct. And I was a mother looking after my three children. I did my duty as a wife and mother for nearly twenty-two years...and then Olivia Pope just took it all away. She even insisted on being with my husband on the night of his inauguration. Poor Fitz was so exhausted but he went as soon as she called him, and I didn't see him again that night."

"And why do you think Ms Pope wanted to see your husband that night?"

"Oh, I believe she wanted to stake her claim. She had seen my husband and I dancing at the inaugural ball; seen how ecstatic I was to be in my husband's arms, to be with him on the night that his dream came true. I'm sure Ms Pope was not happy that it me that my husband, the President, held in his arms for the world to see. I'm sure, that is what prompted Ms Pope to demand her own private moment with the Leader of the Free World. A private moment that lasted all night."

"To your knowledge were there many such private moments?"

"Oh yes, many, many private moments. But one that did hurt was when she insisted on being at my husband's side, when he first touched the United States Constitution written by our Founding Fathers."

"So she stole those special moments?"

"Yes, and now she has stolen my husband…After he bought her a house in Vermont."

* * *

"Mrs Grant, you have testified in court that.."

"Oh that's a lovely scarf you're wearing. A_ hijjab_ isn't it?"

"Yes, Mrs Grant, and thank you. I too have been admiring your lovely pendant."

'Why, thank you. My husband bought it for me as an anniversary present last year."

"Oh... I have a receipt here from a jeweller in Raleigh that you bought an 18k gold and diamond pendant for $6700 three weeks ago. An early Christmas present to yourself, according to the Sales Assistant who gave us a signed statement, which we would like to place into evidence."

"Yes, well, it's similar type of pendant but not the same."

"Mrs Grant, we have a photograph of the type you did buy. Wouldn't you say they look similar enough to be the same?"

"Objection, badgering the witness."

"Overruled, the witness may answer."

"It does look the same, but it isn't."

"May I remind you that you are under oath, Mrs Grant."

"Thank you for the reminder, it is totally unnecessary, I assure you."

"Mrs Grant, you have previously testified that you and your husband had a loving relationship at the time that Ms Pope joined the Grant presidential campaign?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"Mrs Grant, we have a sworn affidavit, advising us that you and your husband had not shared a marital bed for at least three years prior to Ms Pope's arrival."

"That is a lie! Of course, my husband and I were sleeping together, before Olivia came and got her hooks into him."

"Mrs Grant, this affidavit was given to us by your husband, President Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III."

"Objection, your honour!"

"Objection, assumes facts not in evidence!"

"Sidebar, your honour!"

"Hold your horses! Could you folks on Mrs Grant's payroll sort out a system where I get yelled by only one of you at any given time? It would be a great kindness. Now, as to the objections, I believe Ms Hussein is going to submit this statement into evidence. And I can grant a short recess so your client has time to digest this piece of information in consultation with your fine selves. We'll meet again after lunch, unless Ms Hussein has any objections?"

"I have no objections, your honour."

"You are not fasting – something to with your religion at this time of year?"

"No, your honour, I am not fasting."

* * *

"Mrs Grant, you have had time to read your husband's statement."

"Yes."

"And your response to my previous question – is it true that you and your husband had not shared the marital bed for three years preceding Ms Pope's arrival?"

"Fitz is mistaken. He would say anything to support Ms Pope. He's enamoured by her. A man in love will do anything – look at him now, throwing away his Presidency for her."

"Mrs Grant, it is very important to you that your husband remains President. Isn't that right?"

"Of course, it is what he has always wanted and what I, as his wife, have done in every way possible to help him achieve his dreams."

"Mrs Grant, I'm sure you have read your husband's statement in its entirety, including the paragraph that states your marriage was a political arrangement between Mr Fitzgerald Grant senior and your father?"

"That is not true. Fitz and I met on a blind date. We fell in love and we got married, which is the normal progression of any relationship."

"So, Mrs Grant, you do not recall telling your husband that a marriage is almost all pretend? That 'pretending is what's real'?"

"I don't recall saying that, no."

"Mrs Grant, you said you gave up a successful legal practice and resigned from your partnership to help your husband with his career?"

"That is correct."

"Mrs Grant, we have received a letter from the widow of a founding partner at your previous employer. The letter contains an offer for a majority share in the law firm you worked for, Mrs Grant. And the sum of money mentioned is extremely generous and enough to get the firm out of financial debt. The only proviso was that, in return for that donation, a partnership position was to be made available to you, Mrs Grant."

"Objection, hearsay!"

"Who wrote this letter, Ms Hussein?"

"Your honour, the letter carries the signature of Mr Watson, Mrs Melody Grant's father."

"Sidebar, your honour!"

* * *

"...Step back. All right, Ms Hussein, that letter cannot be entered into evidence. It is immaterial to the facts of this case. Any reference to the document will be stricken from the record. Is that all you have on the subject, Ms Hussein?"

"No, your honour. We have obtained an email that was sent to Mrs Grant by a senior partner, asking for her resignation due to poor performance. We also have evidence from an internal investigation which found that Mrs Grant had asked the firm's clients to publicly endorse her husband's presidential candidacy."

"Move to strike!"

"Mr Pentwell, what is the reason for your objection?"

"Your honour, we cannot be certain the document's authenticity."

"Your honour, we have a signed statement from the senior partner, authenticating this email copy as a genuine communication. We have been provided with records to support the accusation of poor performance. And we have a copy of the dossier of evidence compiled to support the claim that Mrs Grant was soliciting clients for campaign support."

"Your honour—!"

"In my chambers."

* * *

"Folks, the statements made by Ms Hussein about the plaintiff's employment will be stricken from the record. I will instruct you not to include defence statements on this point, in your deliberations. It is not relevant to this case. All it does is raise issues around Mrs Grant's Fifth Amendment rights, so we won't waste this court's time listening to Mr Pentwell attack the allegations made by Mrs Grant's former employer. There is always a certain resentment when an employee parts ways with an employer, but that would be wild speculation on my part. Ms Hussein, are you done cross-examining the First Lady?"

"No, your honour. We have a few more questions."

"Hurry it along, Ms Hussein. I am an old man who is not getting any younger."

"Mrs Grant, you have stated in your evidence that you left your employment to fulfil your duties as a wife and mother?"

"That is correct."

"Mrs Grant, how long did you leave your children in the care of your parents?"

"Objection, your honour!"

"What is your objection now, Mr Pentwell?"

"The question does not accord due respect to this nation's First Lady, your honour."

"Ms Hussein, please rephrase your question to show the required level of respect to Mrs Grant, the nation's First Lady."

"Mrs Grant, can you confirm that your children were in fact living full-time with your parents at the time you left your employment; when you were on the campaign trail, and when you were at the White House? Is it not true that your children only came to live with their father, after you and Mr Grant had formally separated?"

"Objection, your honour!"

"Mrs Hussein, what evidence do you intend to submit to support your question?"

"Your honour, we have statements from employees who worked for Mrs Grant's parents as well a statement from the White House. We have obtained enrolment records from schools in the states of Virginia, Massachusetts and the District of Columbia. And we have evidence of support provided by Mr Grant's accountants, confirming that payments were made to Mr and Mrs Watson, for the care and upkeep of the two elder children; in addition to generous compensation to the Watson's personal account, separate to the payments made for the children's upkeep."

"Ms Hussein."

"Yes, your honour?"

"Is that your final question?"

"No, your honour."

"Well, get to it, Ms Hussein."

"Mrs Grant, have you tested the paternity of your youngest child?"

"No! Objection! "

"Ms Pope?"

"Olivia! Sit down!"

"No, Dad. Your honour, I need a short recess to consult with my attorney."

"Granted. We will adjourn these proceedings until Monday morning."

* * *

**A/N: So more crimes and misdemeanors - apparently I have to fit in jury selection somewhere in there, but considering how many other transgressions I've made... not only with the legal system and evidential proceedings, but with the length of the Grant marriage, Teddy's age, etc... it's hardly worth mentioning!**

**The ****_Scopes Monkey Trial_**** – thank you for that info. I read up on it in HowStuffWorks Top 10 Controversial Court Cases at # 7. Will save for future use (heh, heh) **

**BTW, I deliberately avoided using 'Eli' for Rowan as that is a connection with B613 or whatever that spy organisation is, and Spies are not part of this story (other than Huck, but we won't mention that). But I do appreciate the readers who continue to read this story in spite of factual errors.**

**Thank you so much for your wishes - I hope you are all enjoying the season in Glorious Excess! And Healthy Moderation of course ;)))))))) Who says we can't be contrary at this time of year ;)))))))**


	27. Discovery

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #NotAMellitzer**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

When Superior Court Judge William Denver walked into his study on the second floor of his five-bedroom, four-bathroom home in Charlotte, North Carolina, he wasn't expecting the room to be occupied.

He paused in the door, then glanced over his shoulder.

"Your wife is visiting her sister, and your maid is having a day off," Harrison smiled. "There's no one here for you to call."

"Who are you? What do you want? I've only got $10,000 cash in the safe."

"We are not here to steal your money, Judge," Huck frowned. "We came to show you an example of our work."

"I'm not hiring. I've already got a man doing the lawns and he's been working for me for years."

Instead of responding, Huck simply turned the laptop he'd set up on the judge's antique walnut desk so the Judge was able to see the computer screen.

_"Bill, you are letting that damned lawyer make her point. You know it'll all stick in the jury's mind, no matter how many times you tell them to do otherwise."_

_"Pentwell, my hands are tied. We've got cameras in there the whole damn day making my damn courtroom a goldfish bowl. Every damn person I know and several millions I don't are watching! With that kind of scrutiny, I can't be seen to showing any bias."_

_"It ain't bias, if you remember that you're on the side of morality."_

_"Yes, yes. Save that nugget for your closing argument. Now what's this development that has concerned the Pope woman?"_

_"I don't know. My client believes it's nothing."_

_"Pentwell, if brains were leather that woman wouldn't have enough to saddle a junebug. You need to be relying on more than her word."_

_"Her word is all I've go, Bill. I've had people looking into the other woman, but there not much to find, and that's coming from the best."_

_"Well, I reckon that Pope woman must know her damn job, if your people can't dig up any dirt."_

_"Hell, we tried getting the ex-fiance down here, but the Senator hung up before I'd even finished my spiel."_

_"Not even a Pope client is willing to talk?"_

_"Talk! Bill, we got threats that they'd come after us if we put her out of business. And we're not talking dime-store merchants. These folks really do have the power to make hell!... This is turning out to be a damned disaster – I can't lose this case!"_

_"What can I tell you, Pentwell, maybe you need to go with your strengths right now, keep focusing on the obvious deficiencies in the Pope woman's lawyer."_

_"What deficiencies?"_

_"Pentwell, do I have to draw you a map?"_

Huck clicked off the video recording of the lead plaintiff lawyer and the judge, and Harrison smiled from his seat behind the desk.

"You'll have to draw us a map, Judge. What deficiencies were you talking about?"

The judge took a moment to find his voice. "What you've done there is illegal! I could have you arrested!"

"Be my guest, Judge. Huck, pull up a chair. I don't know how long it will take the cops to get here in this neck of the woods but we're happy to wait."

Huck sat down on the window ledge behind Harrison. "Judge, I have made a copy of this recording. If we get arrested, that copy will be sent to the North Carolina Judicial Standards Commission by one of our colleagues. "

"A second copy will be sent to _The Charlotte Observer_ and several national media outlets," Harrison added.

"What do you want?!" The Judge had turned an unusual shade of purple.

"Stop bringing up Ms Sameera Hussein's religious background in an attempt to prejudice the jury. Her faith is not relevant to this case. And let the Defence do their job without interference. _That _is what we want. "

* * *

Across town in the Ritz-Carlton Presidential suite, Quinn and Abby lay under the bed, texting each other.

_'This is officially the WORST bad idea you've ever had, Lindsay.'_

_'What's your BRILLIANT alternative, Abigail?'_

_'Get your armpit out of my face.'_

_'I would, but your elbow is blocking air from reaching my lungs.'_

_'Sssh. She's here.'_

_'Abigail, she can't hear us we're texting.'_

With that, Quinn surreptitiously sneaked her phone out to capture the First Lady standing by the modular couch by the window, her back to the bed and the occupants hiding under it.

"Cyrus, I've been trying to reach you all afternoon!... Are you well?... And how are James and Ella?...Why am I calling?...Cyrus, you are always so impatient and to the point…Of course, I'll hurry. Cy, I'm sure you've been following the proceedings down here in North Carolina?...You haven't. Well, of course you're busy, too busy to watch the greatest courtroom drama in over a decade or was that two…Yes, yes, I'm getting to the point, Cyrus, has Fitz ordered a paternity test on Teddy?...No? Are you sure?...Why am I asking?...Oh, I'm sure it's nothing. Nothing that I need to worry about. Oh, I have to go. I have another call."

In the next breath, Melody Grant was saying in a harsh, threatening tone, "Hal, How do they know about Teddy?! Who did you tell about us?!"

Under the bed, Quinn nearly dropped the phone, and was for once glad when Abby smacked a hand over her mouth to muffle a surprised gasp.

* * *

At Umstead Hotel and Spa, Olivia paced circles in her hotel suite, shaking her head as her father and lawyer watched from either side of an oblong desk piled high with papers, files and folders.

"Dad, I can't believe you kept this from me."

"I knew you would never agree to include it as evidence."

"Dad,_ I_ am the client. _You_ don't get to make unilateral decisions about how to run this case!"

Glancing from father to daughter, Sameera said gently, "Olivia, your father is acting in your best interests."

"You are my lawyer. You need to run everything you intend to present in court by me, not my father."

"Would you like me to withdraw as your attorney?"

"No, she would not."

"No, I wouldn't," Olivia glared at Rowan, before tempering her gaze for Sameera. "You have been doing a great job, Sameera, but I can't allow this line of questioning. We agreed to keep the focus on Mellie, not Fitz or the kids."

"That is a tall order and difficult to achieve in these circumstances. You have the weaker position, Olivia, and the judge isn't doing us any favours. He even stopped his pretence of partiality towards the Defence, after he realised that Sameera wasn't naïve or inexperienced as he'd first assumed."

Sameera gave a shy smile. "Thank you, Professor Pope, but Olivia's friends have been very helpful. I wish I had them assisting me on all my cases."

Olivia managed a smile. "I'm sure we could come to some arrangement for your more difficult ones."

"I'm sure the two of you can have this discussion at a more appropriate time. For now, we need to continue with this strategy. Teddy's existence is the key strength in Melody Grant's case."

"No, Dad, I will not have everyone talking about a child who is too young to understand what's going on. Teddy is an innocent party and I cannot allow this line of questioning just to create doubt in the minds of the jury. We are not going down this path, armed with mere speculation."

Sameera and Rowan Pope exchanged a glance before Sameera said with slow reluctance, "It is not speculation, Olivia. I received a package this afternoon, after we adjourned for lunch. It was sent over to me from the hotel. The package contained the results of a series of paternity tests from—"

Olivia interrupted, "A _series_ of paternity _tests_?"

"Yes, I believe multiple tests were conducted in three different laboratories. One of them is overseas, which apparently is what prevented this information from reaching us sooner. But the results are almost identical. There really is little room for doubt, but we can get an expert to confirm that." Sameera handed Olivia several sheets of paper.

Olivia flipped through the documents, her eyes widening in shock. "Who sent you the package?" she whispered.

"Here's the letter that came with the results," Sameera took a document from a nearby folder. "As you can see the letter has been handwritten by President Grant."

"Fitz didn't write this," Olivia took a deep breath and folded the note. "I have to go."

* * *

Olivia had just stopped at the traffic lights, when she got a call from Cyrus.

"Where are you? If you're not in DC, you need get here now. Fitz needs you."

"I'm here, Cy. I just left the airport and I'm on my way to the White House." Then hearing a noisy sigh of relief, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"We have a situation. When you get to the White House, go straight to the Residence. You'll find Fitz and the boys with Karen."

When Olivia hurried into Karen's room, she found the little girl sobbing into a pillow on her bed, with Fitz pleading to tell him what was wrong, while Jerry and Peter looked ill.

There was a look of relief when Fitz saw Olivia, and he quickly came towards her. "She locked herself in here after lunch. I had to break in. Now she won't stop crying, Livvie. And she won't talk to me. My baby girl won't tell me what's wrong."

"I think I know," Olivia sighed, running her hand down his arm in a reassuring gesture. "But I need to talk to Karen alone. You all need to step out." She cast a smiling glance at the two boys, who quickly left the room.

Fitz turned to follow them out, then swung round and hauled Olivia into a hug. "I'm so glad you're back," he muttered, planting a fierce kiss on her mouth before leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Olivia dropped her coat and bag, kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed beside Karen, running a soothing hand over the little girl's matted hair. After a long moment, Karen abruptly turned and buried her wet face against Olivia's neck and continued sobbing.

"Baby K, don't cry. It's okay. Everything's going to be okay," she crooned, rubbing the little girl's back.

When the weeping didn't stop, but Olivia sensed Karen was listening, she continued, "Remember when you told me you're my little girl. That hasn't changed, Baby K. You're still my little girl and your Dad is still your dad."

"He's not," she sobbed.

"He is, baby, in everything that matters. He's your dad. We won't let that change."

There was a break in the weeping and the sobs finally trickled down to hiccupping sniffles. "...so Mom can't take me away from…him?"

"From your dad? No, I'm going to make sure she doesn't."

"Promise?" A teary, red, sad little face drew back to look at Olivia.

"Promise."

"How are you going to make sure she doesn't?"

"First, we have to tell your dad."

"I don't want him to know. He'll send me away to live with Grandpa and Grandma Watson…" Karen burst into fresh tears.

"No, he won't. He loves you. He'll never send you back there."

The crying subsided. "Maybe if he doesn't know…"

"Baby K, he has to know. How else is going to use all his Daddy powers to keep you safe?"

Karen gave a wan smile, then she snuggled closer to Olivia. "Daddy's going to be very sad, Aunt Liv. And I don't want him to be sad."

"He'll be okay."

"No he won't. Not when he finds out that Teddy and I don't belong him, and that Jerry is his brother."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in uploading this chapter – this time it wasn't me, but a 503 service unavailable error! **

** Anyway back to the story: So since I'm not going with the premise of 3x07 (The Mellie Trauma), I'm going with the original angle portrayed when Mellie was giddy at seeing Big Jerry and flirty around him when they were discussing strategy on the campaign trail. As such, in this story, Jerry is Fitz's brother by way of lust rather than rape. **

**And there's always been doubt over Teddy's paternity, especially after Mellie's comment to Fitz '****_Don't tell me what to do with a son you could barely get it up to conceive_****'. **

**Ha ha, no I'm not a lawyer, thank you for the compliment – you is very kind;))). But I will admit that I used to watch way too many legal dramas on TV – ****_Perry Mason, Matlock (_****yes, he wore white suits too, but not with enough style to get Saks Fifth Avenue's attention!), ****_LA Law, Law and Order, Judging Amy, The Practice, Boston Legal_****, ****_Damages_****, ****_The Good Wife_**** etc… Disclaimer: each and every inaccuracy committed in this story is all my own doing. Not the fault of those TV shows! )))))) **

**(****_Perry Mason_****? How old am I in Vampire years? Actually when we first got television in my home country in the 80s, they telecast really old shows – ****_I love Lucy, Perry Mason, Hitchcock, Abbott and Costello_****… ah, the good ancient days…!)**

**And sorry to ask, but what does this mean - ****_Watse deurmekaregeit is die_****? I looked it up on Google Translate and it said something about a goat (?) ;) … Hmm… Hollis as a goat….**


	28. Closing Arguments

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #NotAMellitzer**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Olivia thought it was fitting that Fitz and the boys were waiting in the Treaty Room.

"Aunt Liv, do we have to…" Karen held back.

"Yes, Baby K. We do. And everything's going to be fine," she assured the little girl.

Fitz got up from the tan suede couch, the worry lines on his face fading as he smiled at Karen. "Hey, pumpkin, is everything okay?"

Instantly, Karen's face crumpled and she dug into Olivia's side.

"Hey, Baby K, don't cry, it's going to be okay." When coaxing didn't work, Olivia crouched down, wiping away Karen's tears. "This is going to be fine. But if you don't want to do this right now, would you like to wait outside with Peter while Jerry and I talk to your Dad?"

Karen nodded. Then tears still streaming, she let Peter take her hand and lead her out of the room.

"Why is she so upset?" Fitz asked, the worry lines back on his face.

Olivia glanced at Jerry, then said quietly, "There's something you are going to hear that will be very difficult to take. You'll be upset, but you need to stay as calm as possible."

"Olivia, what the hell is going on?"

"Dad, it's my fault." Jerry looked miserable.

"What did you do?" Fitz bit out, his confusion turning instantly to anger.

"I used your credit card and pretended to be you to—"

"You did _WHAT_?" Fitz yelled at Jerry. "Do you know how many laws you've violated in that one sentence?!"

"I haven't finished, Dad."

"I don't want you to_ finish_! I've heard enough! I want you to go to your room _NOW_!"

"No, he needs to stay, Fitz, and you need to listen to Jerry," Olivia paused. "But you may need to sit down first."

"Why?"

"Jerry, tell your father why you did what you did."

"I ordered paternity tests."

There was a sudden pin-dropping silence, and Fitz sat down slowly.

"Go on," Olivia encouraged Jerry, although her gaze was on Fitz staring fixedly at Jerry.

"Teddy looks nothing like you, Dad." Jerry blurted, rubbing his palms on his jeans. "I thought doing the tests on the little dude would help Aunt Liv in her trial, and it wouldn't matter to Teddy because he's too little to know or care. But then, I ordered a couple of extra tests and included samples from me and Karen."

Jerry stopped, looking at his dad, his expression pleading for understanding.

When Fitz just stared silently, Olivia encouraged Jerry to continue.

"It turns out..." Jerry stopped. "It turns out..." Then he jerked to his feet, facing Olivia. "I can't do this, Aunt Liv. I can't tell him."

"It's okay," Olivia smiled at him, reaching for his hand and giving it a quick squeeze. "Why don't you go and wait with Karen and Peter. I'll tell your dad the rest."

Once Jerry had left the room, Fitz just looked at Olivia for a long time, then he dropped his gaze to the floor and said thickly, "I'm not the father, am I? Of Teddy or Karen... even Jerry?" He looked up at her again, imploring her to disagree.

"Jerry is related to you, but he's not your son."

"Fuck!" Fitz shot to his feet, his eyes tearing. "_FUCK_!"

Olivia caught his staggering frame in her arms. "Fitz, don't. It's okay."

"How can you say that? Those kids aren't mine, Olivia. She can take them all away from me." He pulled out of her arms and wandered aimlessly around the room, before coming to a stop to stare at her solemnly. "She can take them all away from me. Every single one of them. Especially now that everyone knows I'm not their father."

"No one knows, Fitz, except the kids, my dad and my lawyer. I won't be putting this information on public record. It won't be used in the trial."

He looked at her for a long moment, before dropping his gaze. "I shouldn't say this, but thank you." His gaze flickered towards her. "I know doing that won't help your case, Livvie."

At her shrug, he breathed in a deep sigh and let it out slowly. "So what are we going to do now? How are we going to stop Mellie from taking the children?"

"She doesn't want them, Fitz. She didn't take the kids with her to Blair House. What makes you think she'll want them after the divorce?"

"It's the only way she'll have a hold on me, on us. She can use them in her war against us. And I can't let her do that."

"We need to find a way to get her to sign away her parental rights to you."

"I can get the CIA to torture her."

"Fitz."

"I'm not kidding."

"Fitz!"

He sighed wearily. "Okay, if I can't torture her. What do you suggest?"

She looked at him.

"No." He said.

"I didn't say anything."

"I know that look, Olivia. You get it every time you decide to run. But you can't run. Not this time. Because now you are not just running from me, you're running from Teddy, from Jerry and from Karen. They love you. I love you. You can't leave."

Olivia took a shuddering breath. "It would be easy if..."

"We're not doing easy. We're doing difficult, painful, devastating because of Mellie. And we're going to make it through this. We have to. I don't want her to win."

Olivia managed a smile. "Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'm not running. Or walking. Or doing anything other than sticking with you guys."

A smile ghosted his lips. "Come here."

For once, Olivia didn't argue about being summoned, she simply went to him, letting him enfold her in a hug, his cheek resting against her hair.

After a long moment, she voiced the thought that had been struggling to surface. "You're not surprised." When he didn't respond, she drew back to look at him. "You're not surprised to know about the kids."

"I have always suspected," he admitted softly. "We'd been struggling to have a baby for years into our marriage, then Mellie started acting giddy around Big Jerry, and suddenly she was pregnant. With Jerry.

"I don't know who Karen's father is or Teddy's, but I know that each time we had reached a stage of trying to make our marriage work, and it was more stressful than enjoyable… " He took another deep breath and exhaled. "I'm devastated to have my suspicions confirmed, but I'm not surprised. But it doesn't matter, Livvy, they're still my kids. All of them."

Olivia felt a soft melting deep inside; some cynical aspect that had been hewn into place, crumbled and disappeared. She lay her head on his shoulder and whispered. "In any storm, I know where my shelter is."

He tightened his arms around her, and kissed her face gently, anywhere he could reach. Then he whispered against her temple. "If I can't get the CIA to torture Mellie, what are we going to do?"

A gust of laughter escaped and she drew back. "I don't know. We're going to need a plan. But before we get to that, you need to talk to your kids," She paused, then added fiercely. "Fitz, any doubts you have about what Mellie will do, you need to keep to yourself. You're their dad. No question. They need to know that."

This time the smile was visible, as he lifted his hands to her face. "Any other instructions?"

She scrunched her nose at him. "I told Karen you have special Daddy powers; that you'd use them to stop Mellie sending her back to the Watsons."

He chuckled, stepping to her side and sliding an arm around her waist. "Then we better go and tell her how true that is."

* * *

A short while later, Fitz was sitting on the couch with Karen on his lap, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, with Jerry next to him, eyeing him warily.

"So I'm not grounded?"

"Not yet."

"What does that mean?"

"A grounding seems tame. I was thinking of signing you up for military service."

Jerry stared at him some more, then a wide grin split his face. "Cool."

Karen giggled, and Fitz gave her a smile. "What am I going to do with this kid, pumpkin?"

"I don't know, Daddy," Karen sighed, then added after a pause, "Can Jerry still call you 'Dad', even though he's your brother?"

Fitz drew in a slow breath and released it. "That's up to him. What do you say, Jer. Will you still let me be your dad?"

"I guess. I never liked Big Jerry and it's weird thinking of him as my dad. Weirder than calling you _Fitz_. So I guess you're stuck with _dad_, Dad."

Suddenly, Fitz snaked an arm out and snagged Jerry close for a hug. "Thank you," he muttered into Jerry's unruly curling hair.

Jerry didn't say anything as he joined a tight, clumsy group hug with Fitz and Karen.

They were still in that position when Olivia and Peter walked in with homemade pizzas they'd collected from the White House Kitchen.

Olivia paused, wondering if they needed more time, but felt reassured when Fitz called them in.

Jerry pulled away, swiping at his cheeks. Then he got to his feet to take the pizza tray from Olivia, sneaking a quick kiss on her cheek in the process.

Her gaze flew to Fitz, then seeing his grin along with Karen's wide smile, she felt a heavy weight lift from her heart and began to believe that perhaps, maybe everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Back in North Carolina, the OPA gathered in Harrison's room at Umstead Hotel and re-watched the recording Quinn had made, which Huck had transferred onto his laptop.

"It's dynamite, right?" Quinn grinned. "I checked with the Courtroom Deputy – they've got all the audio-visual equipment we need to screen this tomorrow."

"Not so fast," Harrison interrupted. "You know Olivia would never use this in court."

"Why not?" Abby snapped. "It's what Liv needs to expose that bitch for the liar she is!"

"Liv won't use it. You know she won't."

"We can make a copy and give it Professor Pope," Huck suggested.

"It was nice knowing you, man," Harrison gripped Huck's shoulder, then sat back. "You can't do that. The minute Liv finds out you went to her dad behind her back, she's going to fry your ass."

"So what do we do – just sit on our ass and keep our mouths shut on a piece of info that will blow that bitch's case right out of the water?!"

"Yes, Abs, that's what we do. Until Liv gets here. Then she can decide what she wants to do with this. And 'this' by the way, is great work, by both of you."

"Yeah, good job. Almost professional," Huck gave a rare smile.

"It was Quinn's idea. She recorded that bitch spilling her evil secrets."

"So it wasn't the 'worst bad idea' I've ever had, admit it!" Quinn turned to Abby with a delighted smile.

"Don't push it," Abby said.

"Why can't you just admit you're wrong?"

"I am not wrong. I'm nearly always right," Abby said, getting to her feet and walking out of the room.

"You should get her a frog. Abby likes frogs," Huck said.

"So do I. Too much to let it be smothered by Abby trying to turn it into a prince!" Quinn grabbed a dinner mint and chewed vigorously.

* * *

It was late Sunday night when Olivia made it back to North Carolina.

When she opened the door to her suite, she found her father waiting.

"You're late," he said.

"Dad, don't start. I'm here."

"What happened?"

"Fitz knows about the kids, and it's going to be all right. We're going to make sure the kids come out of this okay."

"Good. I'm glad you've decided to end your relationship with the man."

"I haven't ended anything with him."

"Olivia, how are you going to protect the kids by staying with him? Their mother isn't going to stop until she destroys you. And there's no way you can protect yourself from her lies, without revealing the truth."

"His name is Fitz, Dad. And Fitz and I are going to figure out how to resolve this. Together."

"Resolve what, Olivia? Even if, by some miracle, you win this case after you have tied Sameera's hands on what she can present in court, you are deliberately ignoring the bigger picture – you have helped the President of the United States break the morality clause in his contract with the American people. That clause is not written, it is not spoken but it is there. And that is why American Presidents are regarded with great affection, despite many rumoured indiscretions, because they have maintained the status quo. They have abided by the expected rules of conduct: 'You can have as many lovers as you like, but you cannot divorce your wife'."

"Dad, you are confusing hypocrisy with morality. Presidents in the past put on act of 'happy families' for public consumption, assuming they had to live cardboard cut-out lives because every voter is a child incapable of understanding complex adult relationships."

"Olivia, you cannot always rock the boat. Sometimes you fall out and you drown. This has the potential to be one of those times." Rowan nodded, sagely, which only incensed Olivia further.

"Dad, you don't get to talk to me about this subject! Not when you were seeing Felicia while Mom was still alive!"

An icy silence swept the room, then Rowan said distinctly, "Those were different circumstances."

"Because you are my father, and you expect your daughter to live by higher standards? Or because you are a man; and men have more freedom to step out than women? Or are you going to tell me that men can't be faithful because their brains aren't wired for monogamy; but women are just sluts if they want more out of a relationship that duty and responsibility?"

"Olivia, your mother was unstable I needed a bit of normal in my life. You were so young, I couldn't tell you, and Felicia... she understood. For a few hours each day with her, I could be myself; I could enjoy myself; I could forget that the woman I married was slowly destroying herself."

"You never gave her a chance," Olivia wiped away tears, even as she kept her tone steady. "You were always so demanding, so disapproving of her. Just like you are with me, but Mom couldn't handle it.

"She didn't fit into your Ivy League circles but she didn't have the confidence to stand up for herself as a proud, black woman. She didn't fight back when you tried to erase 'The Ghetto' out of her. She just lost a little bit of herself every day, until she forgot who she was.

"But when you started staying away – all those nights when you didn't even pretend you were working late – she stopped trying. She started taking more and more of those pills the doctors kept giving her – to sleep, to eat, to lose weight, to stay awake – until her heart gave out. Her heart gave out, Dad, and she finally escaped her sad, lonely life as your wife."

The silence that followed echoed around the room. Finally her father broke it.

"Olivia, I just wanted some normal," Rowan Pope said wearily, dragging the words out.

"Why didn't you divorce Mom?"

"She didn't want me to."

"Do you wish, now in hindsight, that you had tried harder to convince her?"

Rowan looked at his daughter, then he looked away. "Yes." After a long pause, he added. "If I had, she would still be alive and probably happier with someone else. Or even happier by herself. I don't know."

Olivia released a long shuddering breath. "Fitz does know, Dad. He knows that he's not happy with Mellie and that they'd both be better off without each other. And he's fighting with everything he has to be with me. I can't say no, Dad. I tried and it made us both miserable. So you will have to accept that."

"It won't matter what I say, you are determined to continue this ill-advised relationship with Fitz."

"Yes."

"And you won't let us use the paternity test results as evidence."

"No."

"You will lose, Olivia."

"I know, Dad."

* * *

**A/N: Too many shocks to absorb? I don't want you all to de-sensitised. (Death and disaster: ****_meh._**** No ice cream in the fridge: ****_AAAAArggghhhh_****!) **

**I'll slow down after the next chapter. For a couple of chapters (yes, you guessed it - I need some planning time for my next Mellie disaster) **

**BTW have I said how much I LOVE your comments - it's insightful, considerate, inspiring and often make me laugh! Thank youuuuuu! ;)))))**

**And thank you for the translations - I'm glad the phrase had nothing to do with a goat!**


	29. Verdict

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #NotAMellitzer**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

It felt hot and airless in the courtroom, with people squeezed into seats or crushed together, standing.

Mellie kept fidgeting with her hair, and glancing over her shoulder, flashing smiles and giving the occasional wave.

Olivia appeared to have zoned out, an oasis of calm in the middle of chaos, staring down at her clasped hands on the table.

The chattering in the public gallery dropped to a murmur when Judge William Denver appeared, then the noise ceased when the Judge cut off the usual preliminary courtesies, and curtly asked for the plaintiff to be recalled to the stand.

"Ms Hussein, are you ready to resume your rebuttal of the plaintiff's testimony?"

"Your honour, we would like to withdraw the last question and have it removed in its entirety from the court records."

There was a lengthy pause before the Judge turned to the Prosecution. "Do you have any objections, Mr Pentwell?"

"Uh, no, your honour."

"Very well, the question is withdrawn and the jury will ignore any references to it. Do you have any other questions, Ms Hussein?"

"Yes, your honour." Sameera left the defence table and approached the witness stand. "Mrs Grant, you said in your previous testimony that you suffered a miscarriage during the campaign trail?"

"Yes."

"Did you report the miscarriage?"

"Of course."

"To your family physician? Or the White House physician?"

"Oh, I couldn't go to either of them. It happened while we were travelling. I went to another doctor."

"What is the doctor's name?"

"That's privileged information."

"The name of your doctor is not privileged, Mrs Grant."

"I can't remember his name."

"Objection, your honour."

"Sit down, Mr Pentwell. Ms Hussein, please continue your questioning of this witness."

"Mrs Grant, how far along were you in your pregnancy when you miscarried?"

"A few weeks."

"And when did you find out you were pregnant?"

"After I took a pregnancy test."

"Did you see a doctor to confirm the test results?"

"No, I was too busy. As I said, I was on the campaign trail with my husband. But I have been pregnant before, I didn't need confirmation. I knew the signs."

"So you didn't seek medical confirmation of your pregnancy?"

"No. I did not."

"And you can't remember the name of the doctor who treated you after your miscarriage?"

"No."

Sameera stared at Mellie for several beats, then continued. "Mrs Grant, in the weeks since you moved to Blair House, have you had the children stay over?"

"Of course not, there's a lot more room for them at The White House," Mellie tittered. No one else made a sound.

"So it was simply due to space that the children stayed with their father, instead of you, their mother?"

"Yes."

"And your baby, Theodore Wallace Grant; could you not find any room for him at Blair House?"

"Oh Teddy has a lot of carers – his nurses; the agents who look after him; he even has his own chef and dietician."

"And who pays for Teddy's carers?"

"Well, my husband, of course. He is their father."

"So to confirm, you do not in any way contribute to the upkeep of your children?"

"I don't need to. The President has always got his accountants to take care of the bills. He has never wanted me to worry my silly little head about such tedious details."

"Mrs Grant, since your children are not living with you, how often have they visited you at Blair House?"

"Many times. A mother doesn't keep count of the occasions."

"We have a statement from your eldest son, Jerry, that they only saw you once. The occasion, according to his statement, was prompted by your request to, and I quote, '_make a video talking crap about Aunt Liv_'. He goes on to say that this was before your appearance on national TV disparaging Ms Pope."

Mellie maintained a steely smile. " Jerry has a little crush on Ms Pope. He's being manipulated. He's not old enough to withstand pressure from an older woman."

"Are you saying Ms Pope seduced your son?"

Mellie flicked a glance towards her lawyers and after a synchronised shake of their heads, she said brightly, "No, I'm not saying that. All I'm saying is that my son can't say no. He's been brought up to respect his elders."

"But isn't it true that he said 'no' to you, Mrs Grant? Didn't he refuse to make the video for you?"

Mellie took a deep breath. "There was something wrong with his camera."

"The same camera that your son used to upload a defence of Ms Pope the night of your interview?"

"He must have had it fixed."

Again Sameera paused, looking at Mellie with her steady unsmiling gaze before adding, "Thank you, Mrs Grant. We have no more questions."

"Mr Pentwell, do you have any more witnesses?"

"No, your honour. The plantiff rests her case."

"Very well, we will take a short recess before the Defence calls their first witness."

Sameera stood, "A recess will not be necessary, your honour. The defence rests."

Judge Denver drew his shaggy grey brows together. "You are not calling any witnesses? Not even the defendant?"

"No, your honour."

"Is this the legal strategy you have advised, Professor Pope?"

"No, your honour, Ms Hussein is taking her instructions from her client, Ms Olivia Pope."

The judge looked from father to daughter, then back again, then he cleared his throat. "Well, this is unexpected. Mr Pentwell, would you like an adjournment to prepare closing arguments."

There was whispering at the Plaintiff's table. Then Mr Pentwell got to his feet. "If we could have a short recess, your honour, that will give us enough time to review our final summation."

"All right, we will take a short recess before we get to the closing arguments," The judge paused. "Ms Hussein, you will be giving a closing statement?"

"Yes, your honour."

* * *

As both sets of attorneys and their clients left the courtroom along with the jury, not many budged from the public gallery.

"Why is no one leaving?" Felicia muttered.

"It's a short recess," Quinn murmured.

"I don't want to lose my seat," said Huck.

Abby scowled. "I can't believe she's throwing her own case. What is she thinking?"

"I don't know, but I know I won't be collecting my pay cheque for a while." Harrison shook his head.

* * *

In the Defence Witness-Attorney conference room, there was a thick silence as Sameera looked over her notes, while Rowan glared at his daughter, who stared calmly back at him.

"Olivia this is ridiculous!" Rowan finally exploded, making Sameera jump.

"Dad, you're scaring Sameera."

"Don't mock me! Do you have any idea of the trouble you're in?"

"They are not going to throw me in jail, Dad. The worst case scenario is that I'll end up giving Mellie a billion dollars."

"Or more!"

"Or more."

* * *

"Dad, why isn't Aunt Liv defending herself?" Jerry looked up from Peter's phone, on which they had been watching a live telecast of the court proceedings.

"I don't know, Jer."

"But she has to put up a defence. Did you tell her not to?"

"No, I didn't," Fitz looked at his son in exasperation.

Karen slid her hand over her father's tensed knuckles. "Daddy, are you sure, Aunt LIv, won't mind us going to see her in court?"

"I don't know, pumpkin," Fitz managed a smile. "But we have to be there. For Olivia. As your brother said, we're her family now."

* * *

When court resumed for closing arguments, Mr Pentwell stepped up to the Jury Box with a grave expression.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the jury, let me begin by thanking you for your service. You have listened to my client's testimony and you now have the task of evaluating the First Lady's statements against that of the defendant."

Mr Pentwell paused, then gave a wry smile. "That would be the normal process but in this case, the defendant, Ms Olivia Pope, has not presented a defence. That, ladies and gentlemen, is because the facts of the case are indisputable. Ms Pope was having an affair with my client's husband, the President of the United States."

He paused for dramatic effect before continuing, "Ms Pope cannot say that she was unaware that he was married, because she worked with Mr and Mrs Grant on the campaign. Ms Pope cannot say that Mr and Mrs Grant were separated at the time she seduced Mr Grant – we have shown you media reports and images confirming The First Lady's testimony that she and her husband were in a loving relationship. A loving relationship destroyed by Ms Pope with deliberate and malicious intent, breaking up a loving home with three beautiful children.

"These are the facts, ladies and gentleman, and I would urge you to consider them as you examine the strength of our case. There is no doubt that the preponderance of evidence is in our favour. Our case is so strong there has been no defence. Therefore you must find for the plaintiff."

Sameera stood up to take her turn at the jury box, ignoring the smirk that Pentwell sent her way.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we thank you for your time here today, especially in light of the difficult task you are about to begin. Contrary to what Mr Pentwell has said, this is not a clear-cut case. You have to evaluate the testimony of the First Lady against my client, Ms Pope, who has chosen not to present a defence. Not because she has no defence against these accusations but because she has no wish to hurt the ones she loves."

Sameera paused, letting her gaze rest on each jury member. "Mrs Grant has chosen to initiate this court action, revealing what she claims are painfully private moments which involve her husband and her children. Ms Pope has refused to do the same, with the people she loves and respects.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is a two-way street. Just as Olivia loves Mr Grant and his children, they too love her. There is no doubt about this. The plaintiff's lawyers have shown you news footage of how affectionate and loving they are with Ms Pope. The plaintiff's lawyers showed this evidence to highlight the existence of an ongoing relationship, but it also shows you their true feelings for my client; feelings that were not scripted for the cameras."

Sameera paused again, before adding quietly, "Mrs Grant would have you believe that she was in a loving relationship with her husband at the time Ms Pope came into their lives. This claim is contradicted by Mr Grant in his statement, which clearly describes the reasons for their marriage, as well as the state it was in, at the time he fell in love with Ms Pope. And I would like to emphasise that he did fall in love with Ms Pope, as she fell in love with him.

"Love cannot be dictated. No contract, either social or business, can dictate what one person feels towards the other. These feelings are beyond even individual control – we cannot force ourselves to love someone, just as we cannot force ourselves not to love. And Ms Pope should not be punished for following her heart and finding happiness, no matter how much Mrs Grant may want that punishment."

Finally Judge William Denver gave his instructions to the jury after Mr Pentwell indicated he didn't have a rebuttal statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have now heard statements from both the plaintiff and defence attorneys. You have also heard the plaintiff's testimony and the evidence presented in rebuttal by the defence.

"Irrespective of the lack of defence testimony, I believe you have sufficient evidence to determine if the plaintiff has met the burden of proof to support her claim. I urge you, ladies and gentlemen, to look at the evidence presented and to ignore all other irrelevant factors such as the status of the witnesses.

"You must focus on what has been said here in court today and not give these statements greater or lesser significance because of who made those statements.

"I must also remind you that each juror must use their own judgement to reach a conclusion and to share that conclusion with your fellow jurors in order to negotiate a fair and unbiased verdict. Your verdict, ladies and gentlemen, must be unanimous, in so far as you all agree with the final conclusion. Now ladies and gentlemen, you may follow the bailiff to the jury room to begin your deliberations."

* * *

Olivia and her team, including the OPA were the last to step out of the courtroom. As they did so, they found their path blocked by a throng of reporters surrounding Mellie in the corridor.

"Maybe we can sneak out the back?" Harrison muttered.

Before they could make a move, the press circling Mellie did an about-turn while she was still speaking.

"The President. He's here!" A cry went out.

Eyes widening in amazement, Olivia watched Secret Service agents part the buzzing media to allow Fitz and the children to get through.

"Fitz!"

"Fitz!"

Mellie and Olivia said at the same time, but Fitz and the children headed directly towards Olivia without sparing a glance at Mellie or pausing in their stride.

"What are you doing here?" Olivia murmured as she was crushed in Fitz's arms, a second before she was enclosed in a hug by the kids, even Teddy who was in Jerry's arms.

Fitz just kissed her lips, then her cheek and whispered, "Let's get out of here."

Then still huddling close, they made their way out of the courthouse; made easier now that the agents were clearing a path of exit for them.

Once seated in one of the limousines parked outside the courthouse, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Fitz and the children. "You shouldn't be here," she said softly, even though the glow on her face gave lie to her words.

Fitz tightened his arm around her and kissed her again. Then told the kids to cover their eyes, and he kissed her some more.

"We wanted to be there for you – in the public gallery," he said huskily much later, when Olivia was blushing, happy and cuddled against his side. "It was Jerry's idea. One of the few that isn't going to get him arrested."

Olivia smiled at Jerry who gave her a cheeky grin. Then she held out a hand for Karen and the little girl rushed into her arms with a happy smile. Jerry gave an exaggerated sigh of relief, stretching his arms indicating that he and Peter had more room to sit alongside Teddy's toddler car seat.

Just then Olivia noticed that their vehicle was in a turning lane, while the other vehicle carrying her father, Sameera and the OPA drove on, straight ahead.

"Where are we going?" Olivia turned to Fitz.

"We're having lunch with the Governor and his family. It seemed only fitting that he should extend that courtesy to you, my future wife, after he hosted a lunch for Mellie, the ex-wife."

Olivia snuffled a laugh. Fitz kissed her cheek, then the top of Karen's head, before relaxing with a smile of accomplishment.

"Two birds with one stone? You're sticking it to Mellie and Sally Langston in one hit? Smooth, Mr President, very smooth."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Ms Pope. I have no idea at all."

"What's Dad done now, Aunt Liv?" Jerry asked.

"He's having lunch with one of Sally Langston's greatest supporters. Not a bad political move when your dad has to start his official presidential campaign soon."

"When is soon?"

Fitz looked at Olivia. "When the divorce is finalised."

"The elections may come sooner than the divorce decree," Olivia demurred.

"I'll have to make sure it doesn't," Fitz said, some of the humour leaving his face.

* * *

They were half way through 'luncheon' – after an extensive personalised tour of the Governor's historic Executive Mansion in Raleigh – when word came that Olivia had to return to court; the Jury had reached a verdict.

"Is this good or bad?" Jerry asked as they drove back to court.

"I don't know," Fitz muttered.

Reaching over to slide her hand over his clenched fist, Olivia murmured that they'd soon find out either way.

"Man, I was really looking forward to the grilled catfish with field peas and sweet potato," Jerry grumbled, then grinned at Peter's snort.

The courtroom was even more packed when they entered. Fitz and the kids took the seats in the public gallery directly behind Olivia, while the OPA sat behind them, and agents dotted the room.

Then the court clerk started speaking: "Madam Foreperson, has the jury reached its verdict."

"Yes, we have."

"Is it unanimous?"

"Yes."

"Do you find for the plaintiff or the defendant?"

"We find for the plaintiff."

"Have you decided on the amount of damages for the plaintiff?"

"Yes."

"Is it unanimous?"

"Yes."

"Please state the amount for the court."

"The amount of damages we award the plaintiff is one dollar."

* * *

**A/N: I've been reading your concerns about Fitz's sperm viability... honestly, I didn't think of it from that angle - too blinkered about making Mellie look bad! **

**As some of you have realised - I just wanted to show that Mellie was a hypocrite for calling Olivia a whore, and how the mantle of 'marriage' can hide a lot of secrets/scandals – especially in Mellie's case. (BTW, this is my little revenge for the ease with which 'whore' just rolls off Mellie's tongue in practically every episode!). **

**As for the other, well, Fitz is not impotent or low of sperm count. I just have to do a bit of research to make that plausible or find another dubious lazy-writer's explanation.**

**BTW, the verdict is based on an actual legal definition for damages - called '****_nominal damages_****'. I first heard of it in the ****_Luna Park (NSW) Ltd v Tramways Advertising_**** (1936) case where Luna Park was awarded a shilling after Tramways stuffed up Luna Park's advertising contract. The judgement was that a breach of contract had occurred, but no real damage had been done.**

**USlegal website describes nominal damages as (1) a 'trifling or token allowance' for the technical invasion of a plaintiff's rights or a breach of a legal duty when no actual injury is shown.**

**I've used nominal damages for much shadier purposes ;)))))**

**Also as this is a civil proceeding, not a criminal one, at least from what I understand from what of _Alienation of Affection_ is, rest easy that Olivia was never going to jail. :)  
**


	30. Bombshells

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #NotAMellitzer**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

_"Man, the shade, the shaaaaaade! And the verdict wasn't even the best part. No, no, no – the best bit was when all the peeps in the cheap seats took out their wallets and gave Ms Pope a dollar to pay the Grant woman. Even their boy, Jerry, added a tenner to the collection! Man, that kind of shade from your own son has gotta hurt. Did hurt, 'cuz I ain't seen that particular shade of red on any woman's face! What would you call it lobster-red? My-blood's-on-fire-red? It was some kind of red I ain't seen before…"_

_"It was a slap in the face, ladies and gentleman. A clear as day, unanimous, heck with all this rubbish, slap-in-the-face. And before Ms Pope had time to sneeze, she had a pile of cash covering every inch of the defence table. I understand the dear lady has donated the entire haul to the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation. A total of $105,684 collected on the spot from the public, the media, courthouse staff and my dad – who put a hundred in the kitty. He said it was the best damned money he'd paid for the best bloody show he'd seen in over forty years. I believe he's watching a replay for the seventh time..."_

_"A dollar, folks and they took less than an hour to decide that King's ransom. Guess the folks down in North Carolina were in hurry to do their Christmas shopping. Unanimous verdict of a dollar. I gotta tell ya, my missus sent hers via courier. That damn verdict put me forty deniros out of pocket. Not that I'm complaining, well, not as much as the broad who got awarded the dollar – seeing her go off at her lawyers, what can I tell ya – them 4th of July fireworks have got nothing on her..."_

"Turn that off, young man, we don't watch TV at the breakfast table," Rowan announced.

"We do in this house," Jerry muttered, switching channels.

"Not when you're at the table in my presence. What I say goes. Turn it off."

Jerry turned to Rowan with a mutinous expression, which Rowan met with stony firmness. Eventually with a clenched jaw, Jerry switched off the television, muttering, "Are you sure Aunt Liv's related to you? I'm just asking because, you know, you're mean and she's _nice_."

"Yes, that is her one failing. Her niceness. It is very unfortunate."

"Take that back!"

Rowan, Felicia, Jerry and Peter turned to look at Karen.

"I beg your pardon, young lady?" Rowan looked sternly at the little girl.

"I said take it back. You can't say nasty things about Aunt Liv." Karen glared at him.

"Yes, I can. I'm her father."

"No, you can't. Take it back."

This time the showdown went on for an age, until Felicia murmured, "Rowan, you should apologise."

Rowan turned his frown on Felicia, who shrugged. "Karen is only eight. Do you really want to want win this one?"

Rowan's brow cleared. "Fine. I will concede this battle on the grounds that I am older and wiser."

"Are you apologising?" Karen asked suspiciously.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

"Promise, you won't say anything mean about Aunt Liv again."

"I can't promise that."

"Promise!"

"Oh, all right, I promise... for now."

Karen narrowed her gaze, but became distracted when Peter asked mildly, "Hey, Kaz, can you pass the jam?"

Jerry reached for the TV remote. "So this means I can turn the TV back on right?"

"No," Rowan disagreed, ignoring Jerry's gusty sigh.

* * *

"Fitz..." Olivia whispered, combing her fingers through his messy curls.

"Mmm..." he rumbled against her neck, the sound vibrating on her skin.

"We should go down – the kids are alone with my dad."

"And Felicia..."

"Fitz!"

With a soft chuckle, he kissed her neck. "They'll be fine."

"Fitz, we're talking about _my dad_ with Jerry, Peter and Karen. With little Baby K, we have to go."

Giving a rough grunt, Fitz levered himself up. "Livvie, Tom has his orders to bind and gag Rowan if he tries anything."

"Really?"

"No, but that lie was worth seeing the smile on your face," he grinned, dropping a kiss on her nose.

"Can you make it an official order?"

"No." He chuckled, rolling onto his back, taking her with him.

"Why not?"

"Livvie!" Fitz laughed, pulling her down for a kiss.

"Why not?" Olivia mumbled against his lips.

Fitz smiled, brushing the hair out of her eyes with gentle fingers, then he nestled her into the crook of his arm. "You didn't tell me about the survey."

"Fitz, we're talking about my Dad."

"You don't want to talk about the survey?"

"What survey?"

"Your guys said they did a survey at Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade – the results show that a clear majority support a Presidential Divorce."

Olivia sighed, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder. "But Mellie doesn't. She's the one holding things up."

* * *

"Hollis! I saw you give that woman a damned dollar! You and all your ex-wives. Every damned one of them! Did you forget that you're on my team?!"

"Mellie, heck it ain't even morning yet. Why are you callin' so early – won't the buzzards in your brain let you sleep?"

"Hollis, it's well past morning where I am! Why aren't you in DC?"

"I'm taking a little break from all them hot air-spoutin' gasbags on the Hill. I'm enjoying the holiday festivities in the good ole' South, breathing fresh air laden with the aroma of black gold and cattle ranches. It's a mighty fine smell, Mellie, highly recommended."

"Hollis, I don't need to smell a whole heap of BS! I need to know how I can get rid of Olivia!"

"Well, darn it, Mels, I'm fresh out of ideas. In my reckoning, you are too. Things are going to hell in a handbasket for you, hon. It's time you put them chairs in the wagon and hit the road."

"I am not hitting the road. I won't. Not when I still have options!"

There was a heavy silence over the phone, then Hollis rasped, "What 'gator are you planning to pull out of your garters now, woman?"

"I'll let you know after I get my husband back!"

* * *

Cyrus dawdled around the Oval Office after the Advisors' meeting, prompting Fitz to ask, "Is there something else you'd like to add, Cy. A matter you didn't want to discuss in front of the others?"

"There is. Let's say there's someone who needs your help."

"You?"

"No, not me! It's someone else, someone who needs directions to the Brains Trust of Herself Incorporated."

Fitz raised a brow.

"It's Mellie."

Fitz tossed the file he was reading onto the desk and sat forward with a frown. "Are you two talking again?"

"Talking would be too mild a term – she is officially harassing me. So I would appreciate it if you could see her as an alternative to me getting a restraining order on her."

"What does she want?"

"She wants to see you."

Fitz picked up the file again. "Tell her to make an appointment. And to bring her lawyers."

"Well, she did make an appointment, this afternoon at 3pm."

Fitz tossed the file back on the desk and breathed out through his nose. "Cyrus, you should have run that past me."

"Did I mention harassment and restraining order?"

"Fine. I'll see her."

"Good. You only have to suffer 30 minutes with her, between your meetings with the Secretary of Defence and the Tech-heads from Silicon Valley."

"Hopefully we can be done in half that time. Then her lawyers can talk to mine and this will be over," Fitz muttered, turning his attention back to the report.

* * *

The OPA were having a celebratory lunch at the Bombay Club in DC, with the only non-celebratory aspect for Olivia being her father and Felicia's presence.

"I wish you'd asked me before inviting Felicia," Olivia muttered to Quinn when she'd first been advised of the extra guests.

"I didn't think you'd mind. Besides, I like Felicia."

When Olivia gave Quinn a look of disbelief, Abby leaned in and whispered loudly, "I told you Lindsay was weird, now do you believe me?"

"Hey, I don't care who sits with us, I'm just happy I don't have to live on food stamps for the next six months," Harrison murmured as he walked past.

"Sell your watch, you'll be okay for a year," said Huck, following Harrison.

"WTF, I ain't selling my watch! Maybe I'll hock one of your laptops."

"No."

During lunch, Quinn kept both Felicia and her father occupied, much to Olivia's relief; and she didn't even mind that they were talking about all the evidence they couldn't use to disprove Mellie's lies.

"I can't believe she's just going to get away with it." Quinn shook her head. "I wish we could have used the recording where she admits she's been sleeping with that Secret Service Agent."

"I always knew that bitch was a slut," Abby smirked.

"Regardless of Mrs Grant's unnatural tendencies as a mother, and considering how much evidence we didn't present in court, I was pleasantly shocked by the verdict." Rowan said solemnly.

"I'm glad Fitzgerald Grant spent the afternoon visiting with the town folk. It gave the rest of us a chance to do some shopping and do our bit to show our appreciation." Felicia smiled.

"Oh, that was all PR for the Grant re-election campaign." Abby waved a dismissive hand.

"But the BBQ ribs, man, they were the best. I could take a trip back to North Carolina just for that," Harrison kissed his fingers, then angled a look when Huck added, "The grits tasted good."

"So when are you going back to New York, Dad?" Olivia asked hopefully.

Rowan and Felicia exchanged a glance, which instantly gave Olivia a bad feeling.

"Well, Olivia, now that I'm retired, I don't have to tie myself to one place."

"You're going to travel around the world? I'll be happy to pay for the trip."

"No, Felicia and I have decided to move to DC." Rowan affected his best Grinch smile at Olivia's appalled expression. "I'm not getting any younger and I would like to spend more time with my only child."

"Do you want me to get you a barf bag?" Harrison whispered.

Under cover of the tablecloth, Abby passed a plastic sandwich bag to Olivia.

* * *

Fitz was running late, and by the time he got to the Library Mellie was already there, waiting for him.

"Fitz," Mellie stood up with an eager smile, extending her hands.

Fitz ignored the gesture and snapped, "What do you want?"

Mellie dropped her hands, folding them on her lap as she sank into a chair. Then she smiled and said sweetly, "I wanted to see you, Fitz. Talk to you. You didn't even acknowledge me in the courthouse. That was just so…hurtful."

"Hurtful is what you did to Olivia. That was a ridiculous lawsuit you brought against Liv and the jury agreed."

"They found in my favour."

"For a dollar. That's not a win by any stretch of the imagination."

Mellie pursed her lips. "I was doing what I thought was right. To protect you."

Fitz exhaled loudly. "I have had enough of this nonsense. Just sign the damn acknowledgment of my petition and the lawyers can sort the details of the divorce."

"So you can cut me out of your life, like our marriage of 21 years never happened?"

"Yes! If I could get an annulment without hurting my kids I would."

Mellie's startled gaze locked with his for a moment, then flickered and fell. "Is that why you stopped the questions about Teddy's paternity?"

"I didn't stop anything; that was Olivia's choice."

"Oh how very noble of her." Mellie simpered.

"I'm glad you see that. She could have destroyed all your claims to respectability in that courtroom, but she chose not to. She chose to sacrifice her defence to protect the children. To protect me. Something you didn't even consider, have never considered in your vendetta against Livvie."

"She has destroyed my marriage!"

"No, _you_ are doing that. You knew I wanted a divorce. I told you I wanted a divorce, straight after I recovered from getting shot. If you had agreed, we could have parted as friends. Now there is no hope of that. I want you out of our lives. More than that, I want you to stop going after Liv. I want you to leave her alone."

"I won't! Not until I can reclaim what is rightfully mine!"

"I don't belong to you. I never have."

"You have always belonged to me, Fitzgerald!" Mellie said fiercely. "I made you! Without me you would never have been governor! And you needed that stepping stone to become President. I. Made. You!"

"You and Dad and a dozen other kingmakers lining up to take credit, as if I had no input at all." Fitz scowled, then shook his head and sat down in the seat farthest from Mellie. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to win you back, Fitz."

Fitz shot to his feet. "I've heard enough! I want you to leave. Any further communications necessary from this point, will be conducted between our lawyers."

"I wouldn't be so hasty, my dear husband," Mellie remained seated, adjusting her skirt. "You haven't heard what I have to say."

"Say it."

"Is that anyway to speak to your wife."

"Ex-wife!"

"Not yet. Not after what I have to tell you."

"Say it!"

"Fitz, I know what you did to Verna Thornton."

* * *

**A/N: Dear wonderful people who are suffering through this story waiting for Mellie's demise (no, no, not death…well, maybe...no, no! Bad thought!). Anyway, I was going to drag this out but I heard your cries of pain – and I'm not a cruel person...well, not unless I'm driving on the freeway with no airconditioning listening to 10x radio replays of Taylor Swift with some bastard tailgating to hurry me up – then... I ****_slow down_****. **

**Sorry, what was I saying...Got a bit lost in my vengeful memories...**

**Ah yes, as it's ****_hot as hell_**** in Oz (not that I have any ****_personal_**** experience of how hot hell really is, but seriously, people, GLOBAL WARMING IS HAPPENING IN MY BACKYARD! Yes, the front patch and sides have escaped...), anyway, I have decided we should hurry this along... **

**It will still be a couple of chapters though...mainly because it's hard to remember how to breathe in this heat, let alone remember why I should curb my addiction to semi-colons and commas. You may have to wait until Autumn/Spring for a coherent plot... **

**THAT WAS A JOKE! Truly, I'm not ****_THAT _****cruel... ;)))) **

**Gotta go – have to lie on floor tiles with Cat & Dog – heat has flattened pecking order. Update: Cat not happy that Dog and I are still breathing, depleting ****_her _****share of oxygen. **

**BTW, THANK YOU soooooo much for the positive feedback re: last chapter, including the lawyers who have acquitted me of any major crimes ;)))))**


	31. Ultimatum

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #Seriously! #JAM #NotAMellitzer **

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"You think_ I_'_m_ Mellie's source? _Me_? You think _I _would entrust a dynamite stick to a loose cannon like _her_?!" Cyrus yelled at Fitz.

"Then how the fuck did she find out?!" Fitz thundered.

"Was anyone in the room?! Did anyone see you with Verna?"

"Of course not! There was no one in the room. I'm not an idiot!"

"Did I say that?! No, you accuse me of being a snitch! Not just any snitch, but a snitch of Deep Throat proportions capable of bringing down your government! Faced with that, all I want to know is if there _could _be _another_ culprit who is definitely not _me_!

"There was no one! This wasn't a crime of passion. I made a cold, rational judgement. I checked to make sure there were no witnesses."

They both paused.

"Right, well," Cyrus took a deep breath. "Maybe you talked in your sleep."

"I don't talk in my sleep."

"Not to point out the obvious, but you would be asleep so you couldn't really be sure, now can you?"

They turned when the door to Cyrus' office opened and Olivia walked in.

She paused at the sight of their tense figures. "What is going on? Tom said you needed to see me urgently."

"Close the door," Fitz said wearily.

Olivia shut the door, eyeing him with concern. "What happened?"

"Mellie knows about Verna."

"_What_?" Olivia looked genuinely shocked. "How? Who told her? Did you...?"

"No!" Fitz growled. "The only person I told was Cyrus."

Cyrus threw up his hands in disgust. "And he thinks I told the she-wife. I would never divulge a secret like that to anyone!"

"Except me."

When they both stared at her owlishly, Olivia muttered, "Cy, you told me Fitz killed Verna Thornton the day you said life is not a romance novel. You told me there would be no happily ever after for us. Not for Fitz. Not for me."

Fitz levelled his gaze on Cy. "I shouldn't be surprised that you predicted this; you never approved of my relationship with Olivia, not after I wanted to stop living the lie."

Cyrus looked at Fitz, then at Olivia, then he sat down, keeping his eyes fixed on the rug. "Yes, it's true I haven't been supportive of your relationship. At times I've even tried to sabotage it. But all I wanted, all I ever wanted, was to protect this Presidency; protect the Grant legacy. This administration has done good work, surprisingly good work for a Republican Presidency. I didn't want to see all that destroyed."

Fitz gave a grunt of laughter. "The irony here is that I tried to stop Verna confessing about Defiance for those same reasons, and to stop her taking all of you, in this election-rigging group, down with her."

Silence filled the room until Cyrus said diffidently, "Sir, you have a meeting with the Silicon Valley CEOs in 10 minutes, in the Roosevelt Room."

"Cancel it."

"I can't cancel it. They made this appointment months ago. We had to reschedule after you went into a coma and weren't sure you were going to make it. So unless I can give them an equally catastrophic excuse, I can't cancel the meeting."

"Mellie has given me an ultimatum: I have to see her at Blair House tonight at 9, to confirm that I will be withdrawing my petition to divorce her or she tells David Rosen of my crime."

"Dammit!" Cyrus shot to his feet. "What are we going to do?"

"I need to speak to Olivia. Alone."

"Ten minutes."

Once Cyrus had left the room, Fitz turned to Olivia and echoed the question, "What are we going to do?"

She walked up to him, and calmly adjusted his skewed tie knot before smoothing down his jacket lapels. "You should go to your meeting. Then later tonight, exactly at 9PM, you should tell Mellie what she wants to hear."

"No."

Resting her hands on his chest as he pulled her in close, Olivia said softly, "This would be a really good time to do 'easy'."

"Livvie, I repeat we're not doing easy, and she's not going to win."

Olivia sighed, sliding her arms around his waist. "Tell me what she said."

"She said she knows I killed Verna."

"Those were her exact words? Tell me her exact words."

"She said 'I know what you did to Verna Thornton'. Then she gave me her 9pm deadline."

"Nine p.m.? The same deadline she gave you the night you ran out the clock at my apartment?"

"The night you watched me earn you." His eyes widened as he realised the significance, then a muscle flexed in his jaw.

"Only this time you can't afford to run out the clock, Fitz."

"She's going to destroy us. She's going to crush us until there's nothing left; nothing good; nothing worthwhile; nothing to salvage—"

She rose up on tiptoe to stop his litany with a kiss, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. "We're going to get through this."

"How?"

"We have until 9PM to find out." She kissed him once more, before stepping back. And after wiping her lipstick of his mouth, she said firmly, "Now go to your meeting, and let me handle this."

* * *

"Tom."

"Ms Pope." Tom placed the weights on the squat rack and reached for his towel. "What can I do for you?"

Olivia glanced around the White House gym, though sparsely populated was hardly private. "Can we talk somewhere more private?"

"Follow me." Tom lead her out into an adjoining room with yoga mats and fitballs in a corner, which was currently unoccupied. "What's wrong?"

Lowering her voice, Olivia said, "Do you know the agents who were with Fitz, when he saw Justice Verna Thornton in hospital the day she died?"

"Not off the top of my head. But I can find out."

"I need to know what they saw and heard around the time Verna died."

"Should I ask why?"

Olivia paused. "I don't want to lie to you, Tom, but it's important. It's even more important for you to be discreet, way more discreet than usual."

They shared a brief smile. Then Tom said, "Is there anything specific I should be discreetly asking about?"

"I want to know where the agents were and what they did before and after the incident."

* * *

An hour later, Olivia stood in the conference room of OPA offices, looking at the list of information the associates had gathered on Verna Thornton.

"So we have a copy of Verna's probated will?"

"Check."

"Financials for the last five years for both parties?"

"Check."

"Computerised schedules from their clerk and assistant offices going back two years?"

"Check."

"A copy of the medical examiner's report?"

"Check."

"What else have we got?"

"Police incident reports of traffic violations."

"Justice Thornton's personal diaries which her clerk forgot to destroy. It's mainly written in an abbreviated code."

"Flight logs and passenger lists for Verna's private jet."

"Hospital records of all visitors to see her while she was seeking treatment under her own name as well as yours."

"Excellent. Let's get to work. We're looking for any connection Verna had to Melody Grant. I'll see you back here after my appointment." Olivia gave a smile of encouragement, before striding towards the entry hall.

"I can't believe that bitch is still coming after Olivia. She is not going to get anywhere trying to appeal that case. We should have got rid of her Huck's way," Abby huffed, plugging a USB stick into her laptop.

"I'm ready to agree with you," Harrison murmured.

"Me too," Quinn added.

"Me three," growled Huck.

* * *

"Tom," Olivia met the agent as he stepped out of the elevator. "Did you get the information?"

He nodded.

"Was Hal one of the agents on duty?"

Tom waited until they reached the privacy of Olivia's office before saying quietly, "No, Hal wasn't on duty. I've got the names of the two agents, and a copy of the incident reports they filed at the end of their shift. They've mainly focused on what happened after the President called for assistance."

"They waited until the President called for assistance? They didn't feel the need to enter the room and help before he called?"

"No. The agents were on guard on either side of the door leading to the patient's room. Their backs were to the wall so they only had a clear view of the passage in either direction. They couldn't see into the room to see what was going on."

"You're sure they couldn't see into the room?"

"Yes, or they would have rushed in to help without waiting for the President to call out."

"They didn't see anyone enter the room while the President was with Verna?"

"No."

"Did anyone go past while he was in there with her?"

"No."

Olivia exhaled slowly.

"I hope I've helped."

"You have, more than you realise. Thank you, Tom."

"Any time, Ms Pope. BTW, hope you got the ten grand the guys collected for your verdict?"

Olivia chuckled. "Yes, Tom, that was awesome."

* * *

After Tom left, Olivia hurried back to the conference room.

"Anything?"

The four associates looked up from their group huddle around their collective computer screens.

"Liv, you should see this."

"We've got something?"

"Looks that way."

"Something we can use?"

"Oh yeah!"

"On Mellie?"

"Yep."

Olivia stared at the various computer screens. "What am I looking at?"

* * *

It had just gone past seven, when Olivia made it back to The White House, exhausted and a bit worried that Fitz wasn't answering his phone. Mild concern turned to full-blown anxiety when she caught sight of Karen, Jerry and Peter sitting on the floor, across from the bedroom she shared with Fitz.

"Hey, what are you guys doing out here?" she asked, hurrying forward.

"Dad's losing it," Jerry muttered. "He won't tell us what's wrong. He just sings."

That's when Olivia heard the muffled sounds of singing coming through the walls. She quickly opened the door, only to be blown back by the crescendo of music that hit her from both the speakers and Fitz singing at the top of his lungs to the chorus of Frank Sinatra's 'My Way'.

Quickly shutting the door, Olivia almost ran to turn the volume down before facing Fitz.

He grinned, opening his arms out to her. "Livvie, my love, dance with me."

Shaking her head, Olivia came closer, putting steadying arms around him. "Fitz, you're drunk."

"Yep. Drunk in love with you." He grinned, trying to dip her back and nearly toppling them over.

"Okay, we need to get you to bed before you break your neck."

"I don't want to go to bed." He pouted. "I want to dance with you. My last dance as a free man before they throw me in prison for the rest of my life."

"Fitz, you're not going to prison."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." He leaned closer, exhaling enough alcoholic fumes to set his breath alight. "I'm going to prison, Livvie, because I'm not going to stop the divorce. I'm going to tell that... that... _woman_ to do her worst. I want her gone! Out of my life!" Fitz swayed and swaggered with each word, until Olivia pushed him onto the bed.

He fell back, then raised up on his elbows to look at her with bleary eyes. "Livvie, you pushed me. Why did you push me?"

"I'm trying to get you undressed."

"Are we going to make love? It will be the last time I get to make love before they throw me in prison. Unless I get conjugal visits – will you visit me for a conjugal, Livvie?"

Olivia tried not to laugh as she removed his shoes and socks, then helped him sit up so she could remove his sweater and unbutton his shirt, but never quite got there as Fitz crushed her in a hug.

"I'm going to miss you so much," he mumbled against her breasts. "I love you, Livvie."

"I love you too." She stroked a hand over his hair, as she held him to her.

"And I'm going to miss the kids. My kids. Even Peter." He drew back to look at her. "Livvie, I'm going from the Crown Jewel in the American Prison syste, to the real deal. I don't think I'm going to like it."

"Fitz, you're not going to prison."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"Fitz, listen to me, you're not going to prison. This is a bad dream. When you wake up in the morning, you'll be fine."

"A bad dream?"

"A very bad dream."

"Kiss me."

She kissed him, then smiled when he muttered, "You feel too real to be a dream. Are you sure this is a dream?"

"Yep."

"Are we making love in this dream too?"

She laughed, shaking her head.

"Why not?"

"Fitz, I feel woozy after just one kiss. If we make love, I won't be able to get out of bed."

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"I'll tell you in the morning."

Fitz pouted but let her pull off the last of his clothing, before she went hunting for some night gear.

"I don't like sleeping in those," he grumbled, when she put him in pyjama pants and a T-shirt.

"I know, but I'm going to bring the kids in here and I don't want them to see you naked."

"I hate this dream," he groused, as she rolled him under the quilt and pulled the covers right up to his neck. "Don't go."

"Okay," she murmured, lying down beside him, reaching out to stroke a hand through his hair.

"She's going to win this one, isn't she?" Fitz looked at her sadly.

Olivia's hand stilled, then she cupped his cheek gently. "No, she won't."

He managed to free a hand from under the covers to take hers in a tight grip. "Promise that if anything happens to me, you'll take care of the kids."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Fitz."

"Promise me, Livvie."

"I promise. You know I will, no matter what."

"Thank you," he sighed. "I love you, have I told you that?"

"Once or twice." She smiled, snuggling close, laying her head on his shoulder.

He snuffled a laugh, then gradually his breathing slowed and he dozed off with a smile on his face.

Once she was sure he was asleep, Olivia eased off the bed and scampered around the room collecting his glass, and bottle of bourbon which she emptied in the bathroom sink. Then she quickly straightened couch cushions, fallen photographs and other odds and ends, displaced by Fitz's boozy ramble around the room, before she opened the door, and smiled.

"Your dad is okay."

The kids crowded into the doorway before cautiously making their way towards the bed. Fitz was sleeping soundly and just beginning to snore.

"Have you guys had dinner?" she asked, stroking Karen's hair as the little girl hugged her waist.

They all shook their heads.

"All right, let's get you guys something to eat, and then I have to see your mother at nine."

"We'll go with you."

"No, Jer, I need you guys to stay here and look after your dad. Please, you have to do this for me."

* * *

At five minutes to 9, the door to Blair House was opened by none other than Mellie.

"Oh," she paused, her bright smile vanishing. "It's you."

"Yes, it's me," Olivia didn't bother faking a smile.

"Where's Fitz?"

"He's...unavailable."

"If that's the game he's playing, tell him I'm calling David Rosen in the morning!" Mellie went to close the door, but Olivia held it open.

"Before you shut the door in my face, you may want to hear what I have to say."

"There is nothing you have to say that will interest me_, Miz Pope_!"

"Fine, then I'll see the US Attorney General tomorrow, and hand over everything my team has found out about you."

Mellie paused. "What have you got on me?"

Olivia stepped through the doorway without waiting for the invitation that was slow in arriving. "Why don't we find somewhere to talk. Then we can both lay our cards on the table, and see which one of us has the winning hand."

* * *

**A/N: So to warn the few readers I have left after the LAST CHAPTER (sorreeee! But it'll work out – clumsily, clunkily but it will...).**

**Anyway, dear tortured people, I'm getting on my soap box again: Drunk Fitz in this story does not equal Drunk Fitz on the show, because ****_my_**** Fitz (yes, I wish) is essentially a ****nice**** guy! **

**(Okay, so he ****_killed _****a judge – who was ****_dying _****anyway and using ****_scarce _****hospital resources in her ****_long-suffering_**** journey to reach #Verna****_Dead_**** – but Fitz only killed her to ****_protec_****t the people/person he ****_loves_****, aaaand who wouldn't cherish being loved by someone who'd kill for you – literally – when he/she is not an assassin or other psychopath). So would I kill for someone? Well no – I'd like to think the people I love are boring enough NOT to require that kind of human/animal/plant sacrifice. (Yes, I live on air – the bit Cat lets me have.) **

**So my point (after 400 words), is that Fitz is NICE and cute. And Drunk Fitz has to be more so, because (in my personal, non-expert opinion) alcohol doesn't turn you into someone you are not, it just strips the mask off and shows the world who you really are. (This is why I never drink – who knows what ****_horrors_**** lurk under ****_my _****mask.)**

**Another point: since Joke doesn't exist, you have to do that stretch-of-imagination-thinggy with Cyrus telling Olivia about Verna but at the same time pretending that he did not show the Joke Tape to Fitz because Joke doesn't exist in this story (sheepish grin). **

**AAAaand there's no actual White House gym (according to Wikipedia). There's only a workout room (pics of sweaty GW Bush can be found via Google), but I thought the White House should have a gym in Fitz's presidency after all Fitz is FIT and not just from running – because seriously I don't think he runs on his arms, and how else can you explain biceps like that without serious WEIGHTS involved! Yes, I really enjoyed researching that topic, thank you for asking. BTW, I have NO idea if SS agents file incident reports!**


	32. Showdown

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #NotAMellitzer**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"Nice place you have here," Olivia murmured as she stripped off her gloves, loosened her coat and placed her bag on the polished dining table.

"What do you have on me?" Mellie enunciated each word with a bite.

"No pleasantries? Fine, let's get down to business." Olivia drew out a chair and sat down.

Mellie remained standing, her arms folded across her chest, her lips pursed.

"Who goes first?" Olivia raised a brow.

"Oh I can't wait to hear what fairytale you're going to spin to the Attorney General tomorrow."

Olivia gave wry smirk. "So, ladies first? I'm fine with that." She took a deep breath and said calmly, "We know Hal is Teddy's father."

Mellie's eyes widened, then she gasped a laugh. "That's it? That is all you have on me? Why would the Attorney General be interested in that? And Hal won't talk—"

"We don't need Hal. We have you. On tape, talking on the phone in your hotel room in North Carolina, revealing Teddy's paternity. I'm sure a DNA test will confirm what we already know."

"Confirm away! If that's the best you've got, I win!" She crowed triumphantly.

Olivia gave her a pitying look, then she added, "I'm just getting started, Mellie. We also know Jerry is Fitz's brother."

"Again, Olivia, the fact I bore Fitz a brother, instead of a son will not interest the judiciary. Adultery may be illegal in 23 American states, but California isn't one of them. Besides Fitz was so _pedestrian_ about the whole pregnancy thing – I had to do _something_. I couldn't have people thinking there was something wrong with him, wrong with us, wrong with _me_!"

"So Big Jerry stepped in to spice things up; to 'help you' present the required image?"

"Big Jerry was strong, he was charismatic; he knew what I wanted. Fitz was always so squeamish about the rough stuff, as I'm sure you know."

"Is that what turned you on about Hal; that he had the necessary equipment to handcuff you to a bed and make you beg for mercy?"

"Oh, I see you're finally grown up enough to sit with the adults. Now tell me is that the last rabbit you have to pull out of your hat?"

"We know who Karen's father is."

Mellie's amusement vanished, beneath a fierce narrow-eyed scowl. "There is no way you could know that!"

"Supreme Court Justice Verna Thornton left all her worldly goods to her only grandchild, Miss Karen Michaela Grant. That inheritance is to be held in trust until Karen's 18th birthday."

"That doesn't prove anything. It's a very long stretch to connect the dots from that legacy."

"Verna kept a diary. In it she detailed your relationship with her son, Michael Thornton who was a magistrate in California. And she kept everything you gave her son."

"That is a lie! Verna told me she destroyed my letters, the photographs, the copies of the sonograms – everything!"

Olivia gave her an assessing stare. "Tell me what happened to Michael."

"He died in a car accident. That's all I know."

"We know that Michael Thornton died in a car accident in very suspicious circumstances, according to the homicide detectives who were called to the scene."

"That case was closed!"

"It wasn't closed, it was…neglected." Olivia paused as Mellie sat down slowly. "We know that Michael was found dead behind the wheel of a car crashed into a tree. He was alone at the time he was found. Alcohol had been splashed on his clothes but none was found in his system. We know the front passenger door was not locked although the rear doors were. And we know that Michael's head trauma was inconsistent with a collision. It was more consistent with someone bashing his head in with a rock, as grit and dirt were found in his wounds."

Mellie rubbed the back of her neck. "I know nothing about any of that. And it's distressing to hear it. I'd like you to stop talking about Michael's accident."

"I would like to keep going. We know the request to give this homicide investigation such a low priority that it became a cold case, was made by one Fitzgerald Grant II, ex-senator and ex-governor of California – Big Jerry."

"He was trying to protect Fitz!"

"Fitz doesn't wear red lipstick. There was a discarded tissue found under the car seat, as if someone had tried to wipe all traces of lipstick from the dead man's mouth. They still have that tissue in the evidence box, and there is no statute of limitations on murder in the state of California."

"It was an accident!" Mellie lifted a shaky hand to her mouth. "I lost control, we were arguing, we hit a tree and I...panicked. I called Big Jerry. He picked me up from the side of the road, and drove me to his place. He told me to get cleaned up while he organised to have someone clean up that other mess. He said he would take care of everything."

There was a silence and Olivia could hear herself breathe. Then she forced herself to speak. "How long did you know Michael?"

"Not long, a few years. He told me he was a judge. I thought he was a superior court judge, but he was only a magistrate. I should have stopped seeing him then, but he was so attentive and he liked to …_spoil_…me. He'd try to get me whatever I wanted, no matter how outrageous. He was pathetic, but sweet... And then he ruined it all by insisting I leave Fitz. He didn't get that I couldn't – I was a _Governor's_ wife. The _Governor _of _California_. I couldn't just leave all that to be a magistrate's housewife. I mean the man didn't even have a maid."

"So on the day of the accident, you were arguing about why you couldn't leave Fitz?"

"Yes!" Mellie dropped her hand and sat forward eagerly, "I told him I couldn't do it! But he wouldn't take no for an answer! He kept going on and on about how much he loved me; how he couldn't live without me. It was awful! He even started crying! I mean that was the last straw – I told him I never wanted to see him again. Then he threatened to tell Fitz. I told him my husband couldn't care less, he barely listened to me when I spoke. That's when Mike said he would tell the press, and I couldn't let him do that – Big Jerry had plans for Fitz to become President and I couldn't let Mike just take that all away."

"So you killed him?"

"He was going to destroy everything!"

"So you killed him?"

"All right, yes! I killed him! I said I needed some fresh air and I stepped out of the car. I was looking for something big, like a branch, but all I found was a rock, so I improvised."

"And you killed him," Olivia swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, and took a deep shuddering breath. "You killed Karen's father."

"It was disgusting –all that blood on my Dior suit! I had to burn that suit. Big Jerry wanted me to destroy everything I had on, and I did!"

Olivia swallowed again, and had to look away from a moment, but her gaze flew back to Mellie when the other woman said scornfully, "So you have nothing except lipstick on a tissue and you won't use it. Because you know if you did, it would devastate Karen. She would never survive knowing that her mother killed her father for a presidency! "

Olivia took another shuddering breath. "You're right, I won't do anything to hurt Karen. What you may not know is that Verna Thornton has been trying to make you pay for your crime ever since she found out that you were the woman who killed her son. That's why she didn't destroy everything as she told you she had."

Hearing Mellie's soft curse, Olivia continued, "We found a safety deposit key taped to the inside cover of one of Verna's diaries. She'd helpfully written the directions to its location under the key. She wanted that box found, she wanted the information in it revealed: your letters, the photographs, Michael's homicide investigation and autopsy reports; anything and everything she could find relating to her son's death… She even became a close personal friend of Big Jerry because she wanted to get to know you."

"That bitch! I knew she was turning Big Jerry against me! He could barely look at me the last time we met, days before he had his heart attack!"

"Verna had nothing to do with that, but Big Jerry did tell her that you had been embezzling money out of the children's trust funds that he'd set up for them. He told Verna that he was going to make sure you couldn't touch a cent in future, and that he was going to give Fitz sole trusteeship."

"I didn't embezzle the money!" Mellie gritted, "I just borrowed it. I was going to put the money back… eventually."

"The amount of money you stole made your crime a Class-G Felony which comes with a 5-year prison sentence."

Mellie cracked a bitter laugh. "Oh, please, Ms Pope, is that supposed to scare me? Do you think I don't know about the statute of limitations which has run out on my so-called crime? You're a year too late with the cavalry."

Olivia looked at her steadily. "The clock hasn't run out, Mellie."

"What you have is hearsay! You have no proof!"

"Not yet, but I'm sure we can find it, just as we found evidence of your other crimes."

"What other crimes?"

Olivia gave a humourless smile.

Mellie narrowed her gaze. "Tell me, Mz Pope, what is the joker in your pack?"

* * *

Olivia sat back. "Late last year, you and Verna Thornton took her private jet to a NRA Women's wilderness retreat in New Mexico."

"Yes, such a wonderful way to rest and relax."

"You went there to turn Verna into a sharp-shooter."

Mellie gaped, then threw back her head and laughed. "Why, if that isn't the funniest thing I've heard! You should take this comedy show on the road, Olivia! I'm sure you'll make a mint of money!" She tittered. "Either that or rotten tomatoes." Then she leaned forward and hissed, "Because Verna couldn't shoot a tin can if I held it up to the gun barrel. That woman had no upper body strength to speak of. "

"Is that why you attended the gun show two days after the retreat ended?"

"What gun show?"

"There's a documentary on gun shows in the public domain; the reporter went undercover to see how easy it is for criminals to buy guns. You and Verna are in the background of one of the shots. In the final copy, your faces were blurred for privacy, but we've managed to get the unedited version and the jury will have no problem recognising either of you."

"A jury to what trial? It isn't a crime to buy a gun – 'the right to keep and bear arms' is a Second Amendment right for all American citizens!"

"But you weren't simply buying guns. You were shopping for an assassin."

"You can't prove that!"

"Verna noted names, dates and times of how and when you met with the man you found through an illegal website, marketing assassins for hire. Verna received a parking ticket for her rental vehicle outside the man's gun shop."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fortunately, we do. Verna made a recording of your conversations. Including the one where you convince her that I told Fitz about Defiance and that he intends to impeach Verna in order to remove her as a Supreme Court justice. You said that, once Fitz has taken care of Verna, he would go after Cyrus, Hollis and you, leaving only the two of us to rule in our very own Camelot."

"It's what I would have done! If Fitz wasn't so weak and squeamish about getting his hands dirty, he could have done that!"

"Why did you want Verna to kill Fitz?"

"I didn't want Verna to kill Fitz! I just wanted her to damage his brain so that he would forget all about you! But she was such a hopeless shot, I had to find someone else!"

The words reverberated in Olivia's brain, as she stared at Mellie, dumbstruck.

"Don't look at me like that! I was getting desperate; Fitz just wouldn't get over you!"

Rage eventually propelled Olivia into speech. "You nearly _killed _Fitz just to give him a lobotomy by bullet?"

"I _didn't _want Fitz killed," Mellie bit out, "I just wanted him hurt, badly, for believing he was in love with you. I wanted him to suffer permanent memory loss and that's all Verna wanted too. She wanted him to forget everything he knew about her involvement in Defiance. I told the man—"

"The assassin you hired to hurt Fitz?"

"Yes, I told the man he must not kill Fitz. I insisted on that, but he had his own agenda. I didn't realise he'd heard Fitz speak about gun control at a memorial of yet another of those school shootings. Fitz gets so 'enthusiastic' about the stupidest things – and that speech nearly got him killed . If only he hadn't blathered on and on about how the Constitution needs to be amended to protect the rights of innocent victims, he wouldn't have almost died!" Mellie gave an exasperated shake of her head. "But I had no idea the man Verna hired had a private vendetta. I only got to know about that after his shooting spree."

"You're talking about the man in the red hoodie, who was never caught?"

"Yes."

"Where is he?"

"He's dead." Then at Olivia's alarmed expression, she said dismissively, "Hal shot him."

"_Hal_ shot him?"

"Yes, the man who shot Fitz wanted more money. I didn't have it and he threatened to kill me. I tried telling him that Verna paid him the first time, that she was dead and I didn't have that kind of money to throw around, not after Big Jerry plugged my access to ready cash. Fitz's allowance was never that generous," Mellie took a deep breath, "So I asked Hal to take care of the problem."

"What happened to the…body?"

"I don't know. Hal took care of everything. That man has always been so loyal to me," Mellie gave a simpering smile. "Even more so, since I had his baby."

"So you used Verna's money to hire an assassin to kill your husband?"

"I keep telling you, I didn't mean for him to die! I didn't want that, I never wanted that!"

"And the assassin was then killed by Hal, the secret service agent who is your lover?"

"Yes, that about sums it up, but as you so clearly outlined, you have nothing on me. And, Verna confessed to the assassination attempt. I have no idea why, but she did."

"How do you know?"

"Fitz told me; the night of Verna Thornton's funeral. He said he believed I was the one who had tried to kill him, but then he realised I hadn't. Why would he say that unless Verna had told him something that cleared my involvement?" Mellie fiddled with the rings on her left hand, "That night Fitz wanted me to be by his side; to reassure him that I loved him; to let him know that we were in this together – whatever _this_ happened to be… For a moment I hoped that the dear sweet stupid man had finally come to his senses; that the bullet had done some belated good after all," Mellie paused, then her faced changed into a scowl. "But you know these things never last – he always goes running back to you!"

Olivia ignored the look of pure hatred, as she lifted her chin and said firmly, "Your turn Mellie, what do you have on Fitz?"

"I know what he did to Verna."

"What did he do?"

"He must have done something, he was the last to see her. She died while he was visiting her, alone, in her hospital room."

Olivia felt a great weight lift from her shoulders and the tight knot in her the pit of her stomach disappear. "So you have nothing except idle speculation. You were bluffing."

Mellie gave a cold smile. "I'm sure David will be able dig up the necessary evidence. All I have to tell him is where to look, and all those rumours floating around just before Fitz starts his re-election campaign…I don't think he'd want that."

Olivia took a deep breath.

"Mellie, we've checked with the agents on duty, they saw nothing. We've seen Verna's autopsy report, there's nothing other than bruising which the ME has attributed to the medical team trying to resuscitate Verna. His conclusion is that she died of respiratory failure, in the final stage of Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease. That is what is on her death certificate. So David will find nothing, and_ you_ have _nothing_."

"And what have you got, missy? Evidence relating to a cold case you cannot use, a charge of embezzlement that's expired and nothing to tie me to Fitz's assassination attempt, because I will deny this conversation ever took place!"

Olivia gave her a considering look, then said steadily, "You were right, Verna did confess to Fitz at the hospital. She said she hired the killer who shot him. Then she told him about Defiance because she didn't think he'd believe her if she just came out and accused you of everything you had done. So she mentioned Defiance, hoping he would find the clues she'd left about you. She thought he would go digging for evidence to cover up, and in doing so he would discover exactly the kind of woman he was married to – a murderer and an embezzler."

Mellie blinked several times, then she bit out, "Fitz didn't find any clues, he just hit the bottle and fuddled his silly head even more."

"Verna had a back-up plan. She called David Rosen. She told Fitz that she wanted to tell David about Defiance so that she could die with a clear conscience. But she never intended to tell David about Defiance. She was going to tell him about you. Tell him where to find the evidence she'd gathered against you."

"That's ridiculous! You couldn't possibly know what she intended, you weren't there!"

"Verna wrote a letter to Fitz, telling him in great detail of her intentions in what she anticipated would be her final hours. The letter was never found because no one looked, until now."

"A posthumous letter from a dying woman who tried to kill the President of the United States? That's hardly compelling evidence."

Olivia smiled and played her last card. She took her phone out of her bag and placed it on the table. "And we have your confession, Mellie. My guys have been taping this entire conversation." Looking at Mellie, she asked the OPA, "Did you guys get all that?"

"Every single word," Harrison chuckle gusted over the speaker phone.

"From the time she opened the door," Quinn confirmed.

"Ding dong the witch is dead!" Abby chortled.

"Why you—!" Mellie launched herself at Olivia with outstretched claws.

* * *

**A/N: So yes, basically I've turned an apple into an orange (utilising writers' alchemy), taking bits of Scandal and rewriting everything with evil glee. Unfortunately, you - dear readers - have to do that stretch-imagination-thinggy (possibly into a parallel universe…!).**

**And yes, I threw everything I could manage at Mellie – murder, embezzlement, S&M, the kitchen sink, plumber's tools... Too much? Not enough? Could have added more? Let me know… ;)))**

**Since I don't have B613 and the whole psycho-spy-who-seduced-Huck-killed-family-including-dog (ugh!) happening in this story, I decided the red hooded guy wasn't Huck so I wouldn't have to remember what they did to him afterwards. (Seriously WHAT was that torture scene they put that man through – bad enough he couldn't get out of the car in the rain, let alone take a shower!)**

**Now to reveal my 'sources': **

**The undercover gun show idea was filched without shame from Huffington Post – from an article called '****_Gun Show Undercover_****' written by Michael R Bloomberg, posted Oct 7,2009. **

**You can find a map of the states where adultery is illegal on the motherjones website in an article called ****_Map: Is Adultery Illegal?_**** written by Tim Murphy and published Nov 29, 2011.**

**And if you want to read (and feel disheartened about the human race), there's an article about the Cyber underworld, ****_'There's a secret internet for Drug Dealers, Assassins and Pedophiles_**** written by Dylan Love, published Mar 6, 2013 on the Business insider Australia website - oh yes, what a wonderful world indeed.**

**_Typesof felony embezzlement_**** charges can be found on legalmatch website, written by Ken LaMance and last updated 09-06-2012 (not sure if that's September or June)**

**Statute of limitations for Embezzlement in California was asked and answered (did I tell you how much I love the Web) on the Expertlaw website - 03-25-2008 at 9.59PM and 03-28-2008 6.40am respectively.**

**Information on Emphysema or ****_Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease_**** can be found on the Patient UK website, in an article written by Dr Tim Kenny and last checked on 05-01-2011.**

**Now for an apology to you all: so I kind of intended to make this story Mellie-free before 2014, but it looks like I'm going to be a day or so late… (another sheepish grin…) **

**On that note: HAPPY NEW YEARRRRRRR! AND MAY YOU ALL HAVE A FANTABULOUS 2014!**


	33. Helpers

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #NotAMellitzer-PSA-NextChapter**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Olivia grabbed her bag with both hands and swung at Mellie. Then for added measure she did a Front Snap Kick that sent Mellie staggering to her knees, just at the door to the dining room flew open and Huck and Tom rushed in.

They stopped abruptly at the sight of Olivia brushing the hair out of her face while Mellie knelt hunched over the area rug, moaning and clutching her middle.

Both women turned as the door slammed open, and Mellie erupted furiously, "Did you see that?! This woman assaulted me! She punched me in the face with her bag! Then she kicked me in the stomach!"

Tom and Huck looked at each other, then Huck said, "I didn't see anything."

"Yeah, we're not here," Tom added.

Olivia smiled, placing her bag back on the table as the men came forward to lift Mellie to her feet, before plonking her down in a chair and holding her down in with firm hands on her shoulders.

"How did you guys know to find me here?"

"I've been following you since you left the office," Huck said. "I didn't think you'd be safe, alone with her."

"Jerry called. He was worried about you," Tom added. "We were both listening at the door when she tried to attack you."

"Me?!She's the one who attacked me!" Mellie gritted in outrage.

"So what do you want us to do with her, Ms Pope?" Tom asked, ignoring the outburst.

"Tom, I am the First Lady, you don't take your orders from _Mz Pope_!"

"Like I said, what you want us to do with her, Ms Pope?" Tom repeated blandly.

"Get your hands off me!" Mellie roared.

"No," both men retorted in unison, tightening their grip.

Olivia brushed away a strand of hair sticking to her cheek, then placed her hands on her hips and faced Mellie.

"You have run out of options. You have lost your husband, your kids, and you are about to lose what dignity you have left, unless you choose to do the right thing."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Olivia looked around and stooped to pick up the contents of her bag that had dropped on the floor, including a manila envelope.

Opening it, she withdrew two separate documents and placed them before Mellie.

"I have a copy of the Acknowledgement of Service for the Divorce Petition made by Fitz, and an agreement to voluntarily terminate parental rights." She fished out a pen from her bag, and placed it on the top sheet. "Sign them."

"Go to hell!"

"Not before you," Olivia muttered. She drew up a chair and sat down. "Do you want me to call your lawyer?"

"I want you to get the hell out of my house!"

"Blair House is not your house. It belongs to the United States Government. If anyone must leave it should be you."

"I'm not going anywhere!"

"At 9 this morning, a few hours from now, you will hold a press conference here at Blair House, telling the American Public that you've decided to give your husband the divorce he wants. Your statement, which I have written, will say that you are doing this for the welfare of your children: You don't want to put them through any more pain and you want to end the bitter feuding for their sake."

"It will be a cold day in hell before I give Fitzgerald Grant the divorce he wants so he can be with his whore. Ow!" She glared at Huck, who had smacked the back of her head.

"No one talks to Olivia like that. No one." He glared at her.

Mellie glared back, then turned to Tom. "Are you going to let him hit a woman?"

"Ma'am, like I said, I'm not here and I didn't see anything."

Mellie turned her furious gaze back to Olivia, then gritted, "There is someone I'd like to call."

"You can use my phone." Picking it up from the table, Olivia said apologetically to the OPA who were still listening at the other end, "Sorry, guys, I have to cut you off."

"Liv!"

"Aw, do we have to go to intermission?"

"This sucks!"

With a wry smile, Olivia cut them off and looked at Mellie, "Give me the number."

Mellie rattled off a number which had Olivia raising a brow. "You want me to call Hollis Doyle?"

Even before she had finished speaking, the phone rang and the caller ID had her answering instantly, "This is unexpected - what are you doing calling me this early in the morning?"

"A little birdy told me that crazy loon Mels wanted to have a chat. So I'm calling to let you know that I'm all ears."

"How many ears?" Olivia glanced around the room.

"Every gotdamn room, closet and suit jacket that woman has. I had to, hon. Mellie said she was going to use 'her options' to get Fitzyboy back and she wouldn't tell me what them options were. And I just wanted to make sure none of her options involved putting me in a greasy skillet."

Olivia looked at Mellie, and placed the phone on the table before her, putting it on speaker. "Hollis is on the line."

Mellie's eyes widened in surprise, but she said in relief, "Hollis, I'm so glad you called!"

"Mels, how are you, hon? Did you get your husband back?"

"I've hit a little snag ."

"LIttle snag in the shape of one Ms O-Livia Pope?" Hollis chuckled.

"There is nothing to laugh about! Olivia is threatening me! And she's threatening to tell David Rosen about Defiance if I don't agree to leave Fitz and the kids. She's blackmailing me, you, all of us!"

"Now, hon, that's a fine tale you're spinning, but the way I heard it Olivia has got you by the short hairs. That's a hella lotta crimes you've done in your spare time, Mels. Hell, did you may be consider knitting, instead of embezzling your kids' trust fund and killin' the poor sap who was fool enough to fall in love with you?"

Mellie gaped. "How…?"

"He bugged this room," Olivia said.

"Audio and video. BTW, Ms Pope, let me congratulate you on that fine right hook with the girly bag, and the kick in the gut – that was a gotdamn mighty fine Crouching Dragon move I didn't think you had in you!"

"Thank you, Hollis."

"Oh, and Olivia, if you need a copy of tonight's entertainment – in the event your pals have technical problems – I'll be happy to send you the High-definition version, free of charge."

"I don't think that will be necessary, Hollis, we're good."

"If you say so. Well, now, it's been lovely chattin with y'all, but I've got to get some shut-eye. Goodnight, folks and see y'all in the mornin'."

Mellie made a small explosive sound, as Hollis ended the call.

"I think you've lost your last hope, Mellie," Olivia said evenly.

"I'll call Hal!"

Tom cut in grimly, "Hal won't be able to help anyone, ma'am, he'll be needing help himself pretty soon."

"It's time to fold, Mellie. You've lost."

"So what happens to me now? What happens after I sign the papers?"

"You'll be taking a vacation. Dr Mendoza has recommended a lovely place in Switzerland, called Burgholzli. It has a psychiatric hospital run by the University of Zurich. She is making arrangements as we speak for you to get treatment there. Long-term treatment."

"I'm not crazy!" Mellie tried to stand up, unsuccessfully. "I can't force me to go!"

"Mellie, you have two choices – take this pre-emptive step to get help in quiet anonymity that protects your dignity; or take your chances in a public criminal trial where I guarantee your lawyers will present an insanity plea as your defence. Either way, you have a strong chance of being found crayzy, or of being imprisoned in a place that isn't as picturesque as the Swiss Alps."

"I didn't try to kill Fitz!"

"No, but you got Hal to kill the shooter. That makes you an accessory-before-the-fact, which means you are as guilty of the crime as the person who committed the murder."

"Murder?! What Murder?!"

They all turned to find Fitz, standing in the doorway, dressed in casual clothes, with Secret Service agents hovering behind him.

"Fitz!" Olivia was the first to get to him. "What are you doing here?!"

He frowned, even as his arms went around her. "More to the point, what are you doing here, Livvie?"

Before Olivia could answer, Mellie spat out, "She's threatening me, that's what she's doing! She's threatening to send the mother of your children to a nuthouse in the Swiss Alps and I don't get to have a say about it."

Fitz looked from Olivia to Mellie to the two men holding her in her seat.

"Sir," said Tom.

"Mr President," Huck nodded.

Fitz returned his gaze to Olivia. "We need to talk."

* * *

They walked past the secret service agents who were standing behind Fitz, and into one of the sitting rooms. But before Fitz could speak, Olivia murmured, "Hollis has bugged this house. We can't talk in here."

He gave her another steady look, before taking her hand and leading back out of the room, through a series of passageways until they were eventually standing in the bunker beneath Blair House.

"Wow, I didn't know this place existed," Olivia muttered as the steel door shut behind them.

"It's been here since President Truman lived at Blair House."

"Are you okay?" Olivia studied his greyish pallor.

"No," he grimaced. "I have a headache."

"Poor baby," she snuffled a laugh, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"Livvie," A faint smile touched his lips before he gave a slight shake of his head and said grimly. "What the hell is going on? I heard the words 'murder', 'Swiss nuthouse' and 'Hollis has bugged this house' and none of it makes sense."

"We need to sit down," Olivia muttered. Still holding his hand, she led him to a couch. Once they were seated, side-by-side, she carefully explained everything that had happened since she'd last seen him.

How seeing Karen's name in Verna's will had led them to a search of Verna's personal diaries that had been left neglected in a safe. How one of the books had a key that took them to a safety deposit box which contained all the evidence Verna had collected against Mellie.

Olivia waited for a reaction, but when Fitz just stared at her blankly, his hand crushing hers, she said softly, "Fitz, are you okay?"

"She killed a man? She killed Karen's father?"

"Yes," she stroked his back.

"And Verna knew about it?"

"Yes."

He released her hand to reach out and lift her into his lap, holding her close. Neither said a word for a long moment, then he asked gruffly, "Is there more?"

"Yes."

"Tell me."

Olivia told him the rest,

Fitz screwed up his face, as he struggled to comprehend. "Wait, Mellie wanted to shoot me so I would forget about you?"

Olivia nodded, massaging her fingertips gently over his scalp.

"And Verna went along with it because she thought I was going to get her sacked from the bench?"

Olivia nodded again. "This might be a bit easier to digest tomorrow, when you don't have a drum band marching inside your head."

He smiled grimly. "I need to know this. I need to understand, but what I don't get is why she confessed. Why did Verna tell me about Defiance? Why did she say she was going to talk to David about it?"

Olivia took a deep breath, then said slowly, "She wanted to die, Fitz, but she couldn't do it herself. She said she didn't want to incur God's wrath, when she was on the verge of meeting her maker. She knew you would do it, once you realised who was involved."

"You."

"Yes." Olivia leaned her head against his. "She knew you'd protect me, because you loved me, and I think she knew you had enough self-awareness to protect your legacy."

Fitz tightened his arms around her.

After awhile, Olivia murmured, "She left you a letter explaining everything." When he remained silent, she asked, "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure. I killed a woman. I committed a crime that has been slowly destroying me on the inside for so long, and now I find out that she wanted to die." He looked at her. "But I still killed her, Livvie. I'm still a murderer."

Olivia kissed him gently. "Things aren't always black and white, Fitz. You know that. This is one of those grey moments. You need to start forgiving yourself. I have. And Verna wanted you to know she would, if you acted the way she intended."

A corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile, then he asked wearily, "So Mellie knows that I killed Verna?"

"No, she was bluffing."

"What?"

Olivia nodded, "She's got nothing. She guessed that something happened because you were alone with Verna when she died. She assumed you'd stop the divorce because you wouldn't want rumours spreading, just before you started your Presidential campaign."

Fitz shook his head in disgust."She did all this on a wild guess?"

Olivia nodded.

"So when do we send her off to the Swiss nut house?"

"It's a psychiatric hospital. Carlita recommended it, not only because it's good but because it's far away from us."

"I like the way she thinks."

Olivia smiled, stroking his cheek. "Are we going to tell the kids any of this?"

"Not yet. Maybe never. I left them sleeping in our room. All three of them. They'd brought sleeping bags and it looked like a slumber party in there. Maybe by the time they wake up, we would have been able to handle the nightmare that is Mellie once and for all."

* * *

A short while later, they parted at the tunnel leading to the White House where Olivia was headed, while Fitz was returning to Blair House.

"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" Olivia asked holding onto his waist.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. "Get some rest. She's my headache. I'll handle it."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for absorbing the kitchen sink, kitchen, whole house, entire neighbourhood (etc) thrown at Mellie (and you!) in the last chapter. And I really appreciate the 'suspension of disbelief'. (There was a lot of suspending required let me tell you – The Akashi Kaikyo Bridge in Japan kind! Like how convenient OPA found all that info before 9PM... hmm...yes...****_sayonara_**** and ****_domo arigato gozaimasu_****!)**

**Actually, I didn't realise Drunk Fitz would appear weak (Yet another moment of oblivion! Sorry!), all I wanted was to make sure he couldn't come charging in to the rescue, because Olivia had to handle Mellie. **

**I had this scene in mind (vaguely, nothing fleshed out, didn't anticipate kitchen sink) when I started writing this story. I wanted Olivia and Mellie to have a confrontation, but my original glob of inspiration was for it to be more dignified - but then as the chapters grew and your comments gave me some direction (actually a lot of direction - yes HUGE ROUND OF APPLAUSE to all my Writing Guides – you are GREAT!), I thought I'd blast out 2013 (seriously what a shitty year) letting all kinds of hell loose on Mellie. Yes it was a very cathartic experience. ;)))))**

**And 'ghostwriting sex scenes' with someone - YES PLEASE! And THANK YOU!**

**Okay - so a warning for THE NEXT CHAPTER: I know I've been half-heartedly promising not to kill Mellie but I think I have to. While writing this chapter, I had an idea for part II of this story which requires Mellie TO DIE in part I. **

**But I didn't want to kill her on the FIRST DAY OF THE GREGORIAN CALENDAR FOR 2014 (I did try reasoning with myself: a blue-tongued lizard doesn't know it's New Year's Day – to him/her it's just another day to swallow a fly for lunch. So I could follow the Blue-Tongued Lizard calendar for Mellie's demise – every day is ****_just another_**** 'fly-lunch day'... But it didn't work.)**

**So anyway, I'm going to kill Mellie in the next chapter (on the SECOND DAY of the GREGORIAN CALENDAR for 2014) but it may be New Year's Day for some of you – so don't read if you're as superstitious as I am and DON'T READ if you really love Mellie (as a couple of you clearly do)…! This warning was given in consideration of everyone's mental health. **


	34. Last Rights

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #MellieDead**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Fitz sat at the table, facing Mellie. They were alone. Tom and Huck were waiting outside with the other agents on duty.

He looked pointedly at the papers that Mellie hadn't even bothered to touch, and said, 'Sign it. I will sit here all night until you do."

"So this how you want to end our marriage after nearly 22 years?"

"Yes."

"Don't you remember what you felt about me when we first got married?"

"No."

Mellie gave a bitter laugh. "Oh, you think you're in love with _her_. But she's just a _phase_! A _passing _phase!"

Fitz gazed at her steadily, and his tone was even steadier as he said, "After everything that Olivia and I have been through, the one true constant has been my love for her. I have loved her from the moment I met her. And I love her more now than I did then."

"But _she _doesn't love you! Not the way_ I_ do!"

"That's true because you don't love me. You never have. Comparing Olivia's feelings to yours would be like comparing everything to nothing."

"She _runs, _Fitz! Every time there's a bump in the road, she leaves you broken and drunk! I'm the one who has always been around to pick up the pieces; to put you back together. I'm the one who has been _by your side_. I proved my loyalty. I've _earned_ my place as your First Lady."

"Olivia ran because I was married, because she wanted me to stay married. She ran because she refused to push herself to the forefront of my priorities: my job, my kids, even you. Olivia ran because she loves me. You hung on to me because your first and only priority has been yourself."

"The American Public will never accept _her _as their First Lady."

"Whatever her public persona ends up being, Olivia will be my wife, and I can only hope the American Public has the sense to realise she'll make a great First Lady."

"Fitz—"

"Mellie, stop whatever you want to say, just stop. I have been married to you for nearly 22 years and I don't know who you are. You slept with Big Jerry, you killed Karen's father and you've ruined the career of a man who saved my life."

"I did all that for you."

"Don't," Fitz said wearily, "Just sign the damned papers and get out of our lives."

Mellie stared at him mutinously, then her lip quivered and her eyes filled with tears. Fitz watched them trail down her cheeks one by one, and didn't even bother offering her a tissue. Instantly, the tears switched off like a tap and Mellie scowled furiously.

"She's turned you into a cold, unfeeling bastard."

"Olivia didn't do that. You did. I realise now that I feel nothing for you. Not even contempt. I look at you and all I see is someone who is so self-absorbed, so selfish that she has never truly loved anyone other than herself. I hope you get to carry on that love affair unhindered in Zurich."

"I will not go to Europe."

"Oh you will. I'll personally put you on the flight. Don't worry – it will be a private jet to fly you there in all your accustomed comfort."

"You can't force me to go!"

"No, but I can promise you that if you stay, I will have you prosecuted for aiding and abetting the murder of the man who tried to kill me. The man you hired, with Verna's money, to shoot me."

"Oh, I see little Ms Snitch has told you everything! How sweet."

"Just sign the damned papers, Mellie."

"You won't prosecute me, not when you know how much damage it will do to the kids."

"It's convenient that you remember our kids now. But you can't hide behind them to escape the consequences of your actions, and there will be consequences."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me. I dare you."

"I don't want to leave here. This is my home. I don't know anyone in Europe."

"Get to know them. We all start off as strangers in the beginning, and in your case remain strangers through to the end."

"Fitz, please, what if I promise not tell; I promise to leave Olivia and you alone?"

"That would be a lie. And I'm done. It's over. Just sign the damn papers. Now."

Mellie glared at him in fulminating silence, then slashed her signature across the pages, marked with stick-on arrows. "Happy now?"

Fitz perused the documents to make sure everything was in order, then he got to his feet. "I will call the lawyers. Have them go over these. Since you will be leaving the country, I will ask them to prepare a statement for you to sign which I can present to the courts, confirming that you agreed to these conditions of your own free will, while you are of sound mind."

"That's a crock of lies."

"And I will be present at your press conference later this morning, when you will let the media know you have agreed to the divorce. If you deviate from that script, you're on your own, and David Rosen gets first shot at Verna's files. I'm sure even he will find it difficult to lose this case."

As Mellie ground her teeth, Fitz strode out of the room, and addressed the agents and Huck. "I need someone here, guarding her."

"I'll wait, sir," said Tom.

"Me too," said Huck.

"And get a couple of female agents here too," said Fitz.

"I'll call HQ," said Tom.

"I'll call Abby," said Huck.

"I think the agents will be fine," Fitz smiled.

* * *

Olivia was pacing the corridor outside their room, when he found her. Barefoot, wearing his Navy sweatshirt and leggings, her hair held back with a clip.

"I told you to rest," he chuckled, catching her in his arms as she ran towards him.

"She signed the papers," Olivia guessed, then laughed when he began raining kisses on her face, which she returned.

"She signed the papers." He lifted her up off the ground, holding her tightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

For a long moment, they held each other in absolute silence, until she felt moisture touch her skin. She drew back, smiling tenderly when she saw that his eyes were wet. "Should we wake the kids and tell them that you're officially their dad?"

"Not yet." He gave her a soft kiss before setting her down on her feet. "Get your coat. We're going out."

"Out where? It's almost dawn."

"Yep, dawn of a new day." He kissed her again. "Get your coat. And some shoes."

He waited, watching as she crept into the room trying not to disturb the kids; then returned wearing a white wool coat, brown ugg boots and a red bobble cap.

"Nice," he grinned.

"Hey, this is the height of fashion in some part of the world, that hasn't been discovered yet."

He chuckled, kissing her again as he drew her into a hug. "You're gorgeous, even when you're wearing nothing. Especially when you're wearing nothing."

"Are you sure you want to go out?" she mumbled against his lips, "It sounds like you want to stay in."

He placed a smiling kiss on her neck, and drew back. "We're going out."

They walked hand in hand, out of the residence onto the grounds, and he heard her soft laugh when she realised where they were going.

"The Rose Garden," he confirmed as they crunched over the frosty grass. There were no roses at this time of year, and the trees were mostly dormant except for the evergreens and shrubs, but he couldn't think of a more perfect place for what he had in mind, in the spot where he'd first unburdened his soul with everything he felt in his heart for her. The woman who walked by his side, her hand laced tightly through his.

"Livvie, do you remember?" He asked when he brought them to a halt.

Her gasp of laughter was thick with emotion. "I will never forget."

He turned so they were facing each other, and then he said huskily, recalling the words from memory. "I love you, I'm in love with you. You are the love of my life.".

Gripping his hands, she whispered, "My every feeling is controlled by the look on your face, I can't breathe without you, I can't sleep without you. I wait for you, I watch for you, I exist for you."

He tugged her closer, and whispered, "I belong to you."

"And I belong to you."

"We're in this together."

She was crying as they echoed the last words, and he let go of their hands so he could crush her to him, kissing her fiercely.

Laughing through her tears, she kissed him back. Then she cupped his face, wiping his own tears from his face. "I know there are legal formalities to complete and it's not really over yet, but this feels real, this finally feels like it's here, and it's happening for us."

"It _is_ happening, and it's always been real, now we just get to make it official" He smiled at her, kissing her again. "I love you."

"I love you."

Then taking her left hand and laying it on his palm, he touched the gold Infinity ring on her index finger. "One day, very soon, I'm going to put that ring where it belongs, when I make you my wife, and let it be known that you are mine for all eternity."

She wiped away more tears with an ecstatic smile, then watched wide-eyed when he got down on one knee on the cold, wet grass and smiled at her.

He heard her gasp as he pulled out a jeweller's box from his coat pocket and opened it to reveal a diamond engagement ring that sparkled even under the night sky. "Olivia Carolyn Pope, will you marry me?"

She fell to her knees and hugged him. "Yes," she choked, "Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the Third, I will marry you."

They kissed, then broke off so he could put the ring on her finger, then they kissed again, and then they were rolling on the grass, kissing and laughing.

At a discreet distance, a voice asked exasperatedly in an agent's earpiece, "What the hell are they doing?"

"Making snow angels."

"But there isn't any snow."

"Yeah, I know."

* * *

When Olivia and Fitz got back to their room, they found Jerry sitting up in his sleeping bag, frowning at their empty bed.

As they entered, he swung round to face them, his frown lines replaced by relief. And after a quick glimpse of their happy smiles, he scrambled out of the sleeping bag with a grin and rushed to crush them both in a bear hug.

Olivia laughed waking up the others.

"What's going on?" Karen sat up sleepily, hugging her purple dragon.

"I don't know," Jerry muttered not letting go of either Olivia or Fitz, "But I think we're going to hear some good news."

"Can I get a hug too?" Karen asked.

"Yes," Olivia held out an arm, while Fitz called, "Come here, pumpkin, and you too, Peter."

They all hugged, then Peter said solemnly, "Congratulations, Aunt Liv."

They parted, looking at Peter.

"You're wearing a ring, an engagement ring," he said.

The kids all stared at the sparkling diamond on Olivia's ring finger and there were shrieks, and shouts and more hugs and kisses.

Then while Olivia danced with Karen and Peter, holding each other in an unsteady hug, Fitz turned to Jerry and said, "Are you wearing PJs with bunny rabbits?"

"Dad, I was stressed last night, okay? I wasn't thinking when I grabbed the PJs Grandma Watson gave me last Christmas."

"Huh, they look good on you." He grinned as Jerry turned to glare at him, then laughed and hauled his son into another bear hug.

* * *

The reception of the engagement news was decidedly frostier at breakfast, when Rowan and Felicia joined them.

"Dad, Fitz and I are getting married."

Rowan studied the way Fitz had his arm tight around Olivia, while the kids crowded in from either side.

"I didn't realise polygamy was legal in Washington DC," he muttered, pulling out a chair for Felicia.

Felicia glanced at Rowan, then at Olivia, and then said with a brief twitch of a smile. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Olivia muttered. "And Dad, Mellie has agreed to a divorce, so now we're just waiting for the formalities to be completed."

"In that case, I will consider congratulating you when I feel I don't have to ask Fitz for ten camels and thirty goats for making you his favourite wife."

As Olivia glared at her father, Jerry leaned in and whispered audibly, "Hey, Mom, whenever you want to start looking for your _real_ birth dad, let me know. I'll be glad to help."

Fitz smiled as Olivia's startled gaze flew to meet his. She looked on the verge of bursting into tears , so he kissed her gently, curbing the urge to crush his son in yet another bear hug.

* * *

At 9AM, Fitz sat next to Mellie at the conference table at Jackson Place, Blair House. Facing them were a group of hand-picked White House correspondents, while the lawyers representing Fitz and Mellie stood to the side, huddled in separate groups, interspersed with agents, silent and watching.

After greetings, introductions and other pleasantries, Mellie began to read her statement. "Good morning. Thank you for being here today. I'll keep this brief. I, Mrs Melody Grant, have been married to Fitzgerald Thomas Grant the III – who is here at my side – for nearly 22 years. But today, I'm here to confirm that I have agreed to the divorce my husband has filed." Mellie glanced up from the words and smiled, "I am making history today by being the first wife to be divorced by her husband, while he is a sitting President of the United States. What a brave new world indeed."

When Fitz cleared his throat, her gaze dropped back to the page. "While we have yet to reach a final settlement, I trust this matter will be concluded fairly and quickly in the interest of all, especially our children. This will be my final week at Blair House. As my marriage ends, and until the dust settles I have decided I to take a break. I will be leaving for Europe, visiting friends. This will be a private tour as I need time to myself, time to heal. So I expect you all to respect that. Now my husband… well, I suppose he is still my husband… and I welcome any questions you have."

There was a short silence, then one of the reporters said, "Why is Ms Pope not present?"

"This is a media conference to confirm the dissolution of my marriage to Melody," Fitz said firmly.

"How long will it take for the divorce to be finalised?"

Again Fitz answered. "Not long. Soon. The sooner the better."

"Will you share joint custody of the children, and how will that work while Mrs Grant is travelling in Europe?"

"My children will be staying with me, and that is all I'm prepared to say right now."

"Mrs Grant, where is your first stop in Europe."

"It's a private tour. If I tell you, I'd probably have to shoot you." She forced a laugh which was met with blank stares.

"Mrs Grant, why will the children be staying with Mr Grant, isn't it usual for the children to stay with their mother, especially when their father has such a time-consuming, high-pressure job?"

Fitz cut in, "As Melody has stated, it's a brave new world we're facing here in the White House - where a President can get a divorce while in office and a father can look after his kids if it is in the children's best interest. Melody will be travelling so it makes sense for the kids to stay with me. They have school and their friends, and I've even promised to get them a dog."

"What kind of dog?"

"No one has won the battle on that one yet."

There was a smattering of laughter.

Then someone asked, "Mr President, are you aware that one of you secret Service Agents was found dead in his apartment this morning? Police at the scene advise that it appears to be a suicide. He'd left a note, apologising for the death of one Mr Lucas Miller. We have been told the agent's name was Hal—"

There was a gasp and then Mellie's eyes rolled back and she fainted.

* * *

_Fifteen minutes later…_

"She fainted?"

"Yeah. The doctors say it's nothing serious. I've added a couple of nurses to my payroll of people I've got looking after her at Blair House."

"She must have loved him."

"Or had some crazy idea that he'd rescue her but now realises she has no one left."

"That's sad."

"Yeah. Have you called Dr Mendoza?"

"I just had a call from her before you called. It's all done. They've got a place for her, and it will be secure."

"Good."

"Do you think we should wait though, because of what happened today?"

"No."

"Fitz."

"Livvie, she has got to go. I've organised a private jet to fly her out, and Tom is organising security for her with an ex-Interpol friend of his, who is taking care of arrangements at the European end."

"So it's happening."

"It's happening."

"Otherwise, how are you holding up?"

"The headache has gone, now I'm just tired... I miss you. Are you coming back here for lunch?"

"No, Mr President, I'm not."

"Why not, Mrs First Lady."

She snuffled a laugh. "Correction: Future First Lady or you'll have to give my dad 30 camels and 40 goats."

"Hey, that was 10 camels and 30 goats. Ms Sneaky."

"Is that all you think I'm worth?"

"Livvie, you're priceless."

"Good save. I'll keep you, but now I have to go."

"Until later, Mrs Pope-Grant."

"I'm not changing my name, Mr Grant."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"You're my woman."

"I am my own woman. You just get leasing rights for recreational purposes at permitted times."

A laugh gusted over the phone. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"We'll talk about it tonight."

"You can _'talk'_ all you want, but I'm not changing my mind."

"We'll see. There's this one move I'd like to experiment with tonight. You might need a back brace tomorrow."

"Fitz!"

"I love you."

"I love you too," she said, laughing.

* * *

_Two hours later…_

"She wants to go to Switzerland, says she wants to fly out tonight."

"What?"

"Yeah, and she's asking for a 24-hour military guard around Blair House."

"Why?"

"She doesn't think Hal's death was a suicide."

"Oh."

"And she wants a military escort to Switzerland."

"Wow. Do you think..?."

"No, I don't, this is Mellie. And it's probably just another one of her stunts, but I have increased security at Blair House. I've hired a private firm, ex-Secret Service, and they've sent twenty men to patrol the place, with guard dogs. And I'm getting the flight ready to fly out tomorrow; the sooner she goes, the better."

"I'll let Carlita know that she has to alert the hospital their patient will be arriving ahead of schedule."

* * *

_LATE NIGHT BREAKING NEWS..._

_First Lady Melody Grant was shot at her residence this evening. She was rushed to George Washington University Hospital but was pronounced DOA. The shooter in custody is a 14-year-old boy who has identified himself as Fitzgerald Grant IV, the son of the President of the United States..._

* * *

**A/N: As you can see I have plagiarised my favourite parts of the Rose Garden scene in ****_Scandal 2x08 Happy Birthday Mr President_****, without apology! BTW, George Washington University Hospital is apparently where Ronald Reagan was taken after he was shot.  
**

**Thank you for understanding about Drunk Fitz, and that Mellie had to go (and for the Mellie-Dead suggestions, I actually wanted to use a couple of them but then I have this idea you see...sigh; and yaaassss, it eees my sssstory – cackles with evil glee!), and my apologies to everyone who wanted Mellie ALIVE – she is a good plot device but I had written her in such a way I had to get rid of her (apparently even the ****_scary depths_**** of my ****_subconscious _****hated Mellie!) and now I'd like to give some other characters a more prominent role (like Sally Langston). I'll make sure there are plenty of circumstances to draw Olivia and Fitz closer together. **

**Also, I've just been catching up on some of my favourite Scandal Tumblr blogs (seriously, are there other kinds?)…and WHOA! (*blush*). You guys on Tumblr - THANK YOU and you are hilarious! Marrrrrrs & Mintyyyyyyy- Mwah, mwah! I have to say tho' (to Minty) that I am an anonymous stalker (got my balaclava on as I write this). I don't have a Tumblr account and I haven't used Twitter much (my twitter handle is under my real first and middle names – I won't reveal those under ****_pain _****of death… well maybe if you ****_threaten _****death, I'll reconsider). But I really appreciate the support – and the dancing policemen! And sorry for the paperbag moments (Mars)! **


	35. Jerrymander

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #MellieStillDead**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

"That kid doesn't even look like me! Doesn't even look like Dad! Why would he say he was me?" Jerry exclaimed as he followed Cyrus out of the White House basement, where he'd been answering questions about his knowledge – if any – of the shooter's identity. "Who the hell is he?

Cyrus muttered, "Karma."

"What?" Jerry frowned at Cyrus.

"Peter." Cyrus said succinctly.

"That was a joke. This is..."

"Murder. Yes..." Cyrus said grimly.

* * *

"Who is that kid? And how did he get through security?" Fitz asked, looking at the CEO of the security firm he had hired, as well as the Secret Service chief; both of whom were in the hot seat as they faced the Chief of Police, Commanding Officer of the DC Homicide Squad and Director of the FBI, all waiting for answers.

"There was a mix-up," CEO muttered, "My guys weren't briefed on what your son looks like. They just saw a kid with two guys in suits, say he was the President's son on his way to see his 'mom'."

"Yeah, my guys didn't recognise the agents, but we weren't sure if they were on your personal payroll, sir. And the kid was wearing the same clothes your son had on yesterday morning, and a baseball cap – we couldn't see his face. So when these guys waved him through, my guys didn't think anything of it."

Fitz sat down slowly, as the icy realisation hit him. "Fuck, this is my fault."

No one rushed to disagree, and the tense figures of the CEO and SS chief relaxed in their seats.

"We shouldn't have had a private agency involved," The SS chief said.

"My guys are ex-secret service. They aren't amateurs."

"I don't know why you guys were hired in the first place." The SS chief stuck with his bone of contention.

"Mellie wanted more security, and I didn't want to put the additional costs through Treasury. I asked your agents to give me a recommendation, they recommended this firm."

"Who were the agents?"

"That's not important. Let's focus on the kid – who he is he? And who were the agents with him?"

"They weren't agents, sir," The Homicide Commander spoke up. "They were actors the kid hired for the night. He told them he was trying to pull a stunt for a reality TV prank show."

"Didn't the fact there weren't any cameras bother them?"

"Not until after the First Lady was shot."

"Their story checks out – we have the phone logs showing calls between the two parties were only made this morning," said the FBI director.

"So they don't know who this kid is either."

"He paid cash, and he told them his name was Jerry Grant."

"He's not my son. And you heard Jerry, he doesn't know this kid."

"Yes, that's clear to us now, sir."

"So who's talking to this kid?"

This time the police chief, homicide commander and FBI director looked at each other. "The kid isn't talking to our people. He says he won't say anything until he can speak to Ms Olivia Pope."

"What?"

"Yes, sir."

"And we'd like to speak to Ms Pope too."

"Find out how she knows this kid."

"She had nothing to do with this!" Fitz glared at them.

"We need to make sure of that."

"I'm telling you—"

"Sir, your wife is dead, and the killer wants to see Ms Pope. We need to speak with her to find out what their connection is."

* * *

Fitz stood glowering when Olivia was shown into the White House Situation Room under the West Wing.

She was wearing an Olivia Pope power suit and looked as if she were attending a client conference as she shook hands with everyone during the introductions. Only the way she reached for his hand under the table once they were all seated, told Fitz she wasn't as calm as she appeared. He gripped her hand, stroking his thumb over her skin in reassurance.

"Ms Pope, we have some questions we'd like you to answer, but first...um... would you like a lawyer?"

Olivia raised a brow. "Thank you, but I am a lawyer and so is Fitz." She spared him a brief smile. "So what would you like to know?"

"The boy in custody…"

"…who has claimed to be the President's son…"

"…he wants to speak to you."

"I see."

"We have a photograph of the boy." The photograph was placed on the table in front of her. It showed a boy who looked like he'd been caught stealing a book from the library. There was no resemblance to Jerry.

"Have you seen this boy before?"

"No."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"No."

"Have you corresponded with him via email or text?"

"No."

"Then why would he be asking to speak to you?"

Olivia smiled. "Rather than sitting here speculating, why don't you take me to him so I can ask him?"

"We can't do that, Ms Pope. We're talking about a minor who murdered the woman who engaged in a bitter public feud with you since the the President began divorce proceedings, and this murderer wants to see you."

"So I am a suspect in Mellie's murder?"

There were glances cast at Fitz, but no one confirmed nor denied the question.

As Fitz gripped her hand even tighter, Olivia sat back in her seat, "Why don't you ask the boy to identify me in a line-up? If he does not recognise me, let me speak to him."

* * *

It took a while for six women to be found of similar appearance to Olivia, then for them to be dressed in a similar fashion. After that, Olivia stood with them in a line-up at Police Headquarters; facing front, turning to the side and then speaking one line – 'Hi, my name is Olivia Pope.'

Shortly after that, Olivia found herself in a Police Interrogation Room facing a kid who was shorter and slimmer than Jerry.

The kid had looked curiously at Olivia when she'd entered. "Are you Olivia Pope?"

"Yes," she nodded, taking the seat vacated by one of two men in the room.

"But there were five other women in there, claiming to be her."

Olivia took out her driver's licence and showed it to him. The boy examined the ID, then passed the plastic square to the man seated next to him.

"Is this fake?"

"No." He shook his head. "I can vouch that Ms Pope is who she claims she is. She helped me out with a case once. Pro bono."

Olivia smiled at the Juvenile Community Corrections Officer, then turned her attention back to the boy. "Now that you know I'm Olivia Pope. Tell us your real name so we can contact your parents. They need to be here before you answer any questions."

"I only had my dad. He's dead."

"Who has been looking after you since then?"

"A couple of guys who work for my dad."

"What's your name?" Olivia asked gently. "We know you're not Jerry Grant."

"Yeah," the boy gave a faint smile. "I just used that as a disguise." He paused, then said clearly, "My name is Marcus Miller. My dad used to call me Marky. I'm from New Mexico. I—"

"No, stop," Olivia held up a hand, looking at the JCCO. "You need to contact David Rosen. This child needs a Guardian Ad Litem. Until one has been appointed, he's not talking."

The boy gave her a considering look. "Are you a lawyer?"

"Yes."

"Can you be my lawyer?"

Olivia gave him a wry smile. "I don't handle cases like this. The DC Superior Court will appoint a lawyer from an attorney list approved by the Family Court. I would advise you not to say anything until he or she arrives."

* * *

It took several more hours for Marky's GAL to arrive. After Mr Nick Fallin had a chance to speak to his client about the events that had been televised on all news networks on a loop since the previous night, Olivia and the other police officers returned to the room.

"Mr Fallin, your client has asked to see me in order to tell us what happened? Do you have a problem with this?"

"No. I will stop the questions if I feel the need to advise my client of his rights."

Olivia turned to the boy. "Marky, after you shot Mrs Grant, you didn't run. You put your weapon down and waited for security to come and restrain you, until the police arrived. Is this correct?"

"Yes. I wanted them to catch me."

"Why?"

"I'm not a killer, Ms Pope. I just wanted that woman dead because she had my father killed."

"Your father?"

"Yeah, my dad was Lucas Miller. He's been missing for months, and I didn't know what happened to him. He said he was going up north to take care of business and that I had to keep myself out of trouble until he got back. Only he never got back. He just disappeared. And I didn't know what happened to him...until her letter arrived."

"What letter?"

"I guess she couldn't send the usual email because I suspended the website I was helping my dad run. Dad wasn't there to coordinate with the other assassins for hire, and he didn't like me getting involved in that side of the business. Said I could do that after I was 21. Anyway, she sent a letter. It had a North Carolina post office stamp. And the letter was written on hotel notepaper with a North Carolina address. It said the writer was the First Lady of the United States and she wanted a Ms Olivia Pope taken care of. That's why I wanted to talk to you - I reckoned that if she wanted you dead, you must be okay."

* * *

Behind the one-way mirror, Fitz sat stunned.

"Mr President, are you all right?" David Rosen asked.

"Someone get a First Aid officer," The Police chief said.

"No, get the man a drink," said the FBI director.

"Bring the bottle," muttered the Homicide commander. "We could all use a drink."

* * *

Back in the interrogation room, Olivia had to take a deep breath before she was able to continue, "Do you have the letter?"

"Yeah, it's in my backpack."

"You didn't have a backpack when the police found you."

"It's in a baggage storage locker at Union Station."

"What else did the letter say?"

"It said the person who accepted the job should meet a Secret Service agent called Hal in DC for details of the hit and to get the payment after the job was done. There was jewellery in the letter too – a necklace and stuff. She said it was a down-payment."

"You said the woman who wrote the letter had your dad killed. What made you think that?"

"She addressed the letter to Lucas Miller's replacement, and said she hoped someone else had taken over the running of the Hire Business after the owner's death, because she had an urgent job to get done. I didn't know my dad was dead until she wrote that."

"What did you do?"

"One of the guys who worked at Dad's gun shop said he could fly me to Maryland because he was going to see his sister up there, and that he'd get me a train ticket from Baltimore to Union station in DC. The other guy called Hal to say I'd be meeting him at Union station. He told Hal that Lucas Miller's son would be taking the job. Then I packed a few things, took cash out of Dad's safe and left."

"Where did you get the gun?"

"From Dad's collection. I got spare bullets from his gun shop. I have the keys to open up the shop for the guys. They've been looking after me, making sure I've got food, clean clothes and that was doing my homework and stuff."

"So you were living by yourself?"

"Yes."

"So what happened when you got to DC?"

"I called Hal on the phone number that was written in the letter. He wasn't happy to see me," The boy gave a smirk. "He didn't believe I was the guy he was supposed to meet until I showed him the letter. Then he took me to a burger place. He bought me a meal. He wanted to know how old I was and if I had any brothers or sisters, and where my ma was."

"I told him my mom was dead and I was an only kid. I asked him if he knew what happened to my dad."

"That's when he said he was sorry. He hadn't meant to do it. He had been following orders, but he wished he hadn't done it. He told me to go home. I told him I couldn't until I knew where my dad was. He told me I would never find him...that his body had not been buried." Suddenly Marky's face crumpled and he covered his face with his hands.

"We need a break," Mr Fallin interrupted.

"Marky, would you like a soda?" Olivia asked.

Marky nodded, his face still covered.

There was a break until a soda was brought, then when Marky was sufficiently composed, Olivia asked gently, "What happened after Hal spoke to you?"

"He bought me a rail ticket back to New Mexico. Then he left because he had to report back to work, and I followed him in a cab back to his apartment. He was taking the stairs when he got a call, from the woman. He told her to forget about the job, because I was just a kid, and that I was looking for my dad. He said he hadn't told me where to find my dad, but he wasn't taking orders from her anymore. And then he hung up. After that I waited until he opened his apartment door before I shot him. I dragged him inside and that took time because he was heavy. Then I wrote a suicide note, and I left."

"What happened after that?"

"I went to find the First Lady. I did a web search on my tablet on the train ride here, and saw a whole bunch of stuff written about her. Like when she won a dollar in a court case in North Carolina, and in one of the pictures, she was wearing the necklace I'd got with the letter. So I knew she was the one giving orders. Then I read that her kid, who was my age, had given a dollar to the other side. And I looked him up. I reckoned that looking like him would be the only way I could get close to her. So I got the same kind of clothes, and hired a couple of guys to look like Secret Service agents. And I went to Blair House. And yeah, that's what happened."

* * *

"I think under the circumstances, we should consider a plea bargain," said Mr Fallin after they had gathered in the Police chief's office, while Marky remained in the interrogation room having breakfast.

"No," said David Rosen. "He committed murder. Not one, but two. Do you know how many kids get off with a slap on the wrist for killing people – too many. So no, he's not getting a plea to walk."

"My client isn't expecting to walk but in light of what he has revealed, more harm than good will come out of an evidentiary hearing."

"And if people find out the First Lady got Marky's dad killed, and then ordered a hit on me, I think you're going to face a lot of pressure for leniency," said Olivia. Fitz just held onto her hand grimly, his jaw clenched tight.

"Yeah, even I'm feeling a bit sympathetic towards the kid, now I know what happened to his dad," said one of the officials.

David glanced around the room until his gaze came to rest on Fitz. "What do you say, Mr President, do you think I should just let this kid go?"

"No." Fitz said heavily, "I can't have kids going around shooting people, regardless of how justified they feel about their actions. This is an adult crime committed by a kid, yet he's old enough to know what he did was wrong. He needs to do time, at a juvenile detention centre with a good rehabilitation programme. But I don't want you to consider a sentence less than 15 years."

"On what charge?"

"Second degree murder with aggravated circumstances."

David looked at Mickey's GAL. "Mr Fallin?"

"I'll talk to my client."

* * *

"She put a hit on you," Fitz whispered into Olivia's hair, holding her tightly as they travelled back to the White House. "It could have been you lying in the morgue."

"It didn't happen," Olivia mumbled, burrowing closer.

"I'm not sorry she's dead. I'm just sorry I had to put a kid in jail for doing it, but he's the same age as Jerry..."

"I know..."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry to have traumatised you all with Jerry - I feel I should have given another PSA: Mellie is going to die but IT'S NOT WHAT YOU THINK... There's a reason I did this – but that will only be explained in Part II. **

**Also 'Nick Fallin' was the name of the lawyer played by Aussie actor Simon Baker in a show called ****_The Guardian_**** (that I used to watch). That's where I first learnt of Guardians Ad Litem (GALs)**

**And information of DC GAL regulations can be found in Law Yale Edu website - ****_District of Columbia (DC) - Representing Children Worldwide_**** last edited in 2005. All the sentencing information was gathered from Wikipedia.**

**Also sorry about the crazy pace – some of you have compared me to a Scandal writer (picture me burning incense and cutting lemons intoning 'rebuke, rebuke' as I write). Anyway the crazy pace is due to the fact that I've been writing this story while on hiatus (sacked from one job and too fed up with the Corporate World to find another). I also expected to be done with this story in December but it's still going (!) and now there's a Part II (oops!). **

**Anyway, since I can't keep paying my mortgage with Monopoly money, I have to return to the Realm of Ugh! and find another soul-destroying job pretty soon (and I didn't want to leave you guys on some cliff's edge while I was gone).**

**Then too, I study part-time and that left-brain activity starts in March, so I have to get to THE END before then (because my brain will go into shock trying to understand Cost-Volume-Profit analysis).**

**So anyway that's me explaining the reason for the roller-coaster ride of the last few chapters and to assure you that I'm NOT on Scandal ABC's payroll (or anyone else's either - but this part in brackets is subject to change).**

**AAAAAannnd I am working on writing OLITZ sexy times – I've even got a volunteer! But that is a work in progress... And excellent point about Peter – loooong holiday, and what about school?! Questions I need to answer in the next chapter, which I think will be the last for Part I (and for the children of Gawwwd reading this I will see if I can fit in a PG rated sex scene)…**


	36. What Matters in The End

**Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. But I've taken the Gladiator oath as a writer: #OLITZ4LIFE #JAM #MellieDead**

**That was a Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers**

* * *

Jerry was waiting when they entered their room; seated on the bed, his head lowered and shoulders slumped forward. But the instant they entered, he sprang to his feet, asking gruffly, "Is it true? The kid who said he was me, is it true he killed… her... because she got his dad killed?"

"Where did you hear that?" His dad frowned

"It's on some chatroom used by a bunch of guys who sell guns for a living."

"What the hell were you doing there?" Fitz glared at Jerry.

"Dad, chill, one of my friends read it and sent me the link." He glanced from Fitz to Olivia. "They're saying the only reason the kid found out, was because Wifey Number One wanted Wifey Number Two dead?"

Fitz ran a hand over his face, looking at Olivia in weary resignation.

She reached for Jerry's hand. "Jer, the chatroom is just a gossip site. The Police are still investigating. It's too soon to know exactly what happened."

Jerry's eyes narrowed, then he released Olivia's hand and crushed her in a hug. "I'm glad you're okay," he muttered against her cheek.

Olivia patted his back, then smiled when Fitz said drily, "Jer, you can let go of Liv, she needs to breathe."

Jerry released her, and turned to his dad. "So did you let that kid go?"

"No."

"Dad..."

"I can't encourage vigilantes."

"Jeez, Dad, you can be so lame sometimes."

"Yeah, that's me - your lame, boring, I-have-the-right-to-ground-you Dad. Now get out of here because Livvie and I haven't slept in two nights."

"You slept the night before. There were witnesses to your snoring. It's Mom who needs sleep. Maybe you should go sleep in another room, so she can rest."

"Out."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help."

"Out. Now."

"Okay, okay, I'm going. Gone!" He yelled through the door after he'd left the room.

Olivia snuffled a laugh sliding her arms around his waist. "He's right there were witnesses to your snoring."

"I don't appreciate you siding with that delinquent," Fitz muttered, with a mock frown.

She smiled standing on tiptoe to kiss him, and he dipped his head to meet her half way.

"We aren't ever going to tell them what happened, are we?" she whispered against his mouth.

"Never."

Then he chuckled as she broke away on a huge yawn.

"Play time is over for you," he kissed her nose. "It's strictly nap time now."

"I don't want to move," she sighed, hugging him.

"Let me do all the work." He smiled, untying her scarf, then unbuttoning her coat, before taking off her jacket and top.

"Okay?" he asked, pausing to give her a gentle kiss.

"Yes," she sighed, eyes drifting shut as his hands caressed her back. "Nice…"

He continued the gentle slide of his hands over her back until he saw her trying to hide another yawn. Then he made speedy work of removing the rest of her clothing, including her boots. Then heard her gasp when he planted a wet kiss on the soft swell of her belly, before he stood up to pick her up in his arms and carry her to bed.

"Maybe I'm not so tired after all," she whispered.

He chuckled huskily, laying her on the sheets before carefully tucking her under the covers. "You need rest. You're yawning again and I would be crushed if you fell asleep on me, in the middle of my A-game."

She snuffled a laugh. "Why are you still dressed?" She tugged at his tie, as he leaned over her, brushing her hair tenderly from her face.

"I have a few things I need to do, and then I'll be back." He gave her one last kiss, before getting off the bed to begin picking her clothes off the floor. By the time, he'd placed them on a chair, she was already fast asleep.

* * *

"Hey, Pumpkin." Fitz tracked down his daughter playing with Teddy in the nursery and he joined them, lying down on the rug. "Hey, little man." He tickled Teddy's cheek, smiling when the toddler gurgled but continued to play with his truck.

Karen looked at her father, then placing her hands over Teddy's ears, she whispered, "Is she dead?"

Fitz looked at her solemnly, then held out his arms and she scrambled forward to cuddle against him.

"Yes, she is." He kissed the top of her head. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sad."

"It's okay, if you did feel sad. She was your Mom."

"I don't feel sad," Karen insisted fiercely. "And she's not my Mom."

"Okay."

"Is Aunt Liv okay?"

"Yes, she's asleep now. But you can sneak in and see her if you want," Then a thought struck, "But, uh, don't move the quilt. She might get cold."

Karen looked at him with that 42-year-old expression he found disconcerting, but then she surprised him by saying, "Daddy, Jer is calling Aunt Liv 'Mom', can I do that too?"

"Yes, pumpkin, you can," Fitz smiled, giving his daughter a hug. "Liv would love that."

* * *

Fitz wasn't expecting to see Rowan in the corridor, waiting for him as he stepped out of Teddy's room.

"How is my daughter?"

"She's resting."

"Is Olivia a suspect in your wife's murder?"

"No."

"Then why did they take her in for questioning?"

"They took her in to question the boy who shot Mellie. He wanted to speak to her."

"Why?"

"It's complicated," Fitz muttered.

"Well, Mr Grant, why don't you tell me how complicated it is," Rowan smiled.

Biting back a groan, Fitz nodded.

As they walked down the corridor, Rowan murmured, "Just as a matter of interest, are the kids in this house exempted from going to school?"

"No of course not," Fitz defended, felling like a parent of truant children, being questioned by the principal. "They've been granted a special dispensation. Both Jerry and Karen will be starting school in DC next year, and I didn't want them returning to Virginia or Andover after Thanksgiving. In hindsight, I'm glad I did that. I wouldn't want them to be on their own at a time like this."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, then Rowan said, "And have you officially adopted Peter into this family? I ask because Olivia is a successful career woman, and I don't know how happy she'll be as a mother hen to an increasing brood."

The smile that had emerged at the initial question, instantly vanished after the added comment and Fitz scowled. "Livvie loves the kids, even Peter. But I haven't adopted him, much as I'd like to. Peter's parents and the school are letting him stay with us until Christmas – I believe it is not celebrated by his family who are of a different faith. He'll be flying home to be with his parents for New Year, and he'll be returning to Andover at the start of the new term. But I've told Peter to consider this his home for the holidays."

There was another silence, then Rowan said, "I like Peter, he's a smart boy."

"Yes, he is."

"Just like Jerry, except Jerry is a smart boy with a smart mouth. He needs discipline."

Fitz gave an exasperated frown. "He gets plenty of discipline. He's been grounded so often, his room probably feels like a holding cell."

"He needs direction as well as discipline – have you considered getting him involved in charity work: helping out at a food bank or looking after abandoned animals. He is very protective of the people he loves, he just needs to put that passion to good use."

This time the silence was lengthier, then Fitz glanced at the other man out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe you should consider staying with us permanently, once you move to DC."

Rowan looked at him and smiled, "I am almost tempted to accept, knowing how thrilled both my daughter and your son will be to hear of your invitation."

* * *

After Fitz had telling Rowan the edited version of what happened at Police Headquarters, a White House aide came hurrying to tell him that Morris at the gate needed to speak to him urgently.

"Sir, we've got Ms Pope's staff here wanting to talk to you, but they haven't been cleared by the Secret Service, so I can't let them through."

"Get Tom – he knows them well enough to make a visual ID, then let them through. I'll be waiting in the Green Room."

As soon as they were shown into the room where Fitz was waiting, Abby burst out, "What is going on? Did that bitch really try to kill Liv?"

"I see you've been frequenting the same chat rooms as my son."

"Chatroom? We haven't been on any chatroom!"

"We have contacts. Official contacts who told us what was going on," Harrison added.

"And we want to make sure she's all right," Quinn explained.

Fitz gave them a level look, then indicated for them to be seated. "She's resting now. It's been a hellish couple of days and I don't want her disturbed." He paused, before adding, "I need the gossip floating around to be shut down. What you know is not common knowledge, and I'd like it to stay that way. Can you do something about that?"

"Are you trying to get yourself hired as a client? Because we charge a fee," Abby glared at him.

"We'll see what we can do," Harrison said, adding under the blaze of Abby's outraged stare. "We'll do our best to protect your reputation. It's what Liv would want us to do."

"I'm thinking about my kids. There are things I don't want them to know about their mother."

There was a shift in tension among the group, then Quinn said quickly, "Of course, we'll do everything we can. You can count on us."

The others nodded even Abby, and Huck who was watching in silence.

"Thank you," Fitz said gruffly, then he stood up. "If you're free tomorrow, you're all invited to dinner with the family. I'll get the necessary clearances organised, and Morris will be able to let you through without a hold-up."

"I don't eat meat," Huck said grimly.

"I'll make sure the chef has a meat alternative on the menu."

"I don't eat chicken either."

* * *

When Fitz eventually made it to the Oval Office, he found his Cabinet and advisors waiting with grave expressions on their faces.

Fitz paused, "This is a surprise."

After a glance around the room, Cyrus said, "We're not sure if condolences or congratulations are in order, sir."

"At this precise moment I'm not sure either," Fitz said wryly. "It's not a secret that Mellie and I didn't have the most amicable end to our marriage, but her death is a tragic shock."

"Why did the kid shoot her?"

"The matter is still under investigation but I would like to keep the circumstances under wraps, for the sake of my children. What I can say is that Olivia was able to get the boy to tell us why he impersonated my son in order to shoot Mellie."

"Will he be tried as an adult?"

"The boy has accepted a plea sentence of 15 years in a juvenile corrections facility and we have Olivia and the boy's lawyer to thank for getting a speedy resolution." Then he glanced around the room. "As a direct result of what happened last night, we're tightening security around here and changing the protocols for access involving all non-White House staff. This will be tedious but your families and friends will be just as welcome at the White House as they have been before; but we need them to go through a few extra steps before we can let them in."

There was a ripple of polite laughter, then Cyrus said, "We're flying the flag at half-mast today."

"Thank you."

"We have the usual official condolences from heads of government, but there's been no outpouring of grief from the public." He paused then asked delicately, "Will there be a… state funeral?"

"No, Mellie's body will be flown to Virginia to be buried in the family cemetery on the Watson estate. If it can be communicated that her funeral will be private, for family only, I would appreciate it."

"We'll see to it."

Fitz accepted the handshakes and hugs from everyone who made indistinct soothing noises on the way out of the office, until only Cyrus remained.

"Did I miss any meetings today, Cy?"

"Oh just a couple – one with the King of Jordan and another with the Wall Street CEOs, but they were very understanding. Sally Langston has flown the King of Jordan and his family to spend the weekend at her ranch in Georgia. And the Wall Street guys are meeting with the Treasury Secretary and the White House Council of Economic Advisors." Cyrus paused, then asked after a quick glance over his shoulder, "So how are you feeling?"

"Deeply relieved."

* * *

The room was dark and there was a stillness that indicated The White House was in sleep mode. All except for the woman Fitz held in his arms; from her breathing he knew she was awake.

"Hi," he said in a voice rough with sleep.

"Hi."

He felt her smile before she pressed a kiss on his shoulder. Keeping her secure with one arm, he reached out the other to switch on the bedside lamp, then swept the hair from her face tenderly. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good… relieved… happy." She hugged him tightly, then asked after a pause, "How are you feeling?"

"Happy, relieved, good."

They laughed softly, sharing a kiss. He parted her lips gently, tasting her sweetness with a lazy tongue, smiling when he heard her breath hitch, followed by a soft moan.

"Am I permitted to use my leasing rights for recreational purposes?" he growled as his hand smoothed up her body to cover a breast, massaging gently.

"What...?" She moaned arching into his palm

He shifted, sliding a knee between her thighs then chuckled when her fingers clawed through his hair, and dragged him down to her breast.

He figured this was as good a time as any to break it to her.

"Livvie, I've asked your dad and Felicia to come live with us." Then he instantly regretted the impulse, when her whole body stilled and she glared down at him.

"..._What_?!"

* * *

**A/N: To everyone who has hung on until this chapter: THANK YOUUUUUUUUU for being on this Manic journey - you have made the tail-end of 2013 joyous (without a need for the usual medication). And even though it rained companions for Cat & Dog, I've had the best start to the New Year, writing and re-reading your comments for the..Umm...I don't know... zillionth time ;))))**

**So this is the end of ****_A Presidential Divorce_****. Part II starts next - ****_A Presidential Election_****...**

**At this point I thought I'd share some things I've learned about writing and 'publishing' daily: **

**1) I can't edit the life out of Chapter One, in the process of writing chapters 2,3,4...36**

**2) I write the first crazy idea I get, no time to replace it with a more 'sensible' one**

**3) I haven't had time to think of a 'better (other) story' half way through this story**

**4) I haven't had time to forget where I started from or where I'm going (i.e. spell the lead character's name five different ways)**

**5) Best of all: I have kept minimal contact with friends and family for more than a month (YASSSS!)**

**Sadly though I may need to take a few days off to I recover from RSI and to show Proof of Life to the people I've blissfully avoided... **

**So until we meet again on this site...let me leave you with #11 on the list of ****_Top-100-funny-quotes-of-all-time_**** on the quotery website (yes, that's as far as I got) : ****_Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit: wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad - Miles Kington _**

**Actually I've changed my mind about leaving just yet. Not until I've shared this about the first story-teller in my life: my grandfather. **

**For years, until I started 'proper' schooling, my grandfather had to tell me a story at lunch time or I would refuse to eat. (Yes I was a brat and he was wonderful), but what still amazes me is that he always had a story to tell – and ****not one**** of them was about a princess who needed rescuing by a prince. My grandfather was born in the year 1900.**

**On that note, lots of hugs and platonic kisses... Until later, peoples...;)))**


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